Grand Theft Auto: Vanderville City
by dethrow
Summary: It's been 5 years since Joey Giovanni set foot in Vanderville City. Thought to have been dead, he's come back to take over again but he has to finish a promise that may cost him his life.
1. Remembering Vanderville

It was twelve noon with the sun shining bright over Vanderville City. The streets were filled with the usual crowds; drug addicts, day-time hookers, bootleggers, low-life thugs and that guy who predicts the future which always involves the world ending by tomorrow.

For any civilized human being this would be a certified hellhole, but for Joey Giovanni it was otherwise. A few years ago he was riding a customized Cadillac Series 75 Sedan with his own chauffeur and had bodyguards left and right. Now he was roaming the streets in a cab and down to his last couple of twenties.

A few minutes passed and then the cab stopped abruptly in front of a large-scale building. You can tell that it was a classy place, the other buildings surrounding it couldn't even compare. They looked old and beaten down but this one was kept spick and span. To top it all off, there was a glamorous penthouse up on its peak.

He got out of the cab and stared at the magnificent edifice. Nothing's changed he thought to himself.

"How much?" he asked.

"Eighty dollars." the cab driver responded.

"You're kidding me right? Here's forty."

"This ain't a charity, buddy."

"Fine, sixty. Take it or leave it."

He held out the cash just behind the windowsill and the cab driver reluctantly took it.

"Fine. But let me tell you something" he let out a snort that signified a tone of experience. "If you're gonna ask Mr. LaSalle about getting a job you can forget about it. I've been trying to get that dumb old bastard to hire me but he's not seeing anyone."

This didn't bother Joey but the cab driver went on.

"Ever since his kid got capped he never wants to talk to anyone no more."

"Who? Little Danny?"

"Yeah, him. Six months ago his old man was teaching him the ropes, you know, doin' deals, making contacts. Then one day a bullet fired right through his head, BANG, dead on the spot."

"Did they find out who shot him?"

"Yeah, it was the limo driver. Some guy LaSalle probably hired on the streets and he turned out to be a mole. Can you imagine that? Of all the people, he had to pick that guy."

"A mole for who?"

"Dunno, actually. Probably came from one of the other two mobs, Torrence or Estrada's. Those there've been going at it for some time now. The guy probably was aiming for LaSalle but couldn't quite get the job done. He was damned lucky, too, he got away."

The cab driver let out a snort again, readjusted his cap and got ready to leave.

"Well, anyways LaSalle isn't in the mood in seeing anyone right now. It'd be a shame if you came all way out here for nothing."

Joey let out a smile. "Don't worry. I'll make him see me."

And with that, the cab drove off.


	2. Homecoming Gone Bad

He started up the marble steps toward the entrance. People were walking back and forth from the building. Some of them looked like businessmen who already had a name in this town, though Joey didn't recognize them; while most were big guys who appear to be the hired muscle.

Upon entering the place he saw that it was covered with plush red carpeting all around. The walls bore bright gold and white strips and furniture was of the highest caliber. He started down the long hallway, passing the desk clerk.

"Excuse me, sir." the clerk called out, having the notion that he was new here, seeing as he had never seen Joey before.

"Don't worry, I got it." he answered without looking back, he merely raised his hand up.

Joey may have been gone a long time but if he still knew what's what, it's that the head honcho always resided at the top floor. He reached the elevator and waited for it to open. When it did he saw that an aging old man came out. A slightly fat, bald man who wore a dirtied white apron that covered his black pants and plain white shirt.

That man was Deke Martel. The owner and bartender of Liquor Haven. Joey used to go there every night, preferring the company of passed out drunks instead of the ritzy parties held by the other syndicates that pretended everything was all right between them.

He hated those parties. He couldn't imagine that a truckload of drugs he was shipping suddenly exploded and then the organization responsible for it was now inviting him to a party like some kind of victory celebration.

Martel passed him with his head down and a look of disappointment in his face. He didn't bother to look at Joey; he was too caught up in himself, mumbling something about tearing it down.

He entered the elevator and pressed the 8th floor. It whirred mechanically and then rose up. It reached its destination and the doors flew open. The outside greeted him with icy cold air; the whole floor had air conditioning. The décor for the place was the same as on the first floor.

The only difference was a painting that hung beside a door on the far end, the only door there as a matter of fact. The painting was of Pantiliano LaSalle, 'Tilley' for those close to him. He looked to be about in his forties with his smooth, wrinkleless skin and partially gray hair but Joey knew he was already sixty-five.

He went through the door and saw the secretary filing papers. He went over to her.

"Yeah, uh, I need to speak to Mr. LaSalle." he told her and walked on without waiting for a response.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. LaSalle isn't seeing anyone--"

"Tell him Giovanni's here."

"But--"

He didn't pay attention to the girl anymore, she wasn't going to stop him from seeing LaSalle; but these two guys were.

"Hey, you dickheads. Move out of my way."

One of the guards spoke up. "I'm sorry but Mr. LaSalle isn't--"

"Mr. LaSalle doesn't have shit to tell me I can't see him." he retorted, anger rising within him.

"I'm sorry. But you still can't see him." The guard moved forward with his hand raised in Joey's direction.

Joey got fed up with it. He curled his fist into a ball and landed it on the guard's face. The guy fell down while the secretary screamed. The other guard was momentarily stunned but decided to do the same to Joey. He ducked though, and then rammed his head on the guy's jaw; he fell flat on the floor.

Then Joey adjusted his shirt pompously like in one of those James Bond films, and began to step forward but the first guard already took out his handgun and pointed it at Joey. He had no choice but to step back.

"All right, all right." he walked backwards, hands raised up his shoulder. While the guard stood up, wiping blood off his mouth, the gun still aimed at him.

"I'll leave. But you tell Mr. LaSalle that the real guy who should be running this town is back, the guy who owns this town. ME, Joey Giovanni. And you tell your 'boss' that I'm gonna see him one way or another." he turned and walked out of the door, slamming it hard as he left.

"Damn! What was that all about?" the guard blurted out as soon as he was gone.

"Who cares? The stupid nutcase broke my jaw." the other said.

"Hey, I think this must be yours." the guard held out a gold tooth.

"Aww, Damn!"

* * *

Joey walked out furiously toward the elevator. All his plans had gone up. Worse, where would he go? He wasn't expecting for this to happen. He thought that once he returned, he would go back to power again. But maybe that was his fault for believing that people still had respect for him, let alone remember him, a person who had been long thought dead.

He reached the elevator and was about to push the button when the doors opened by itself. A man about as tall as him made to get out but stopped short when he saw Joey.

"Hey, man. What happened to you?" the guy asked.

He looked like he was in his mid 20's with his jet-black hair and rugged unshaven look, wearing a trench coat that made him appear as if he was a private investigator. Even Joey was startled by his appearance and made him think twice about talking to this guy.

"Ah, I wanted to talk to LaSalle but those prickheads wouldn't let me. Said he didn't want to talk to anybody."

"That's not good. I came here wanting an interview with him. I was hoping I could work for him." his voice didn't seem to have any trace of regret but maybe because he already expected this situation.

Joey surveyed him intently without blinking. The guy noticed it and apologized, ushering him in. He did so and pressed the button going down.

"So...uh, the name's Frank. Frank Kay Arsint. ...And you are?"

"It's Joey. Joey Giovanni."

"Joey, huh? Haven't I heard of that name somewhere before? Anyways, you new here? If you want I can give you a place to stay. And maybe we can both find a way to get into the LaSalles' payroll."

"Yeah, that'd be great." he let out a sigh; fate had saved him yet again.

When the elevator stopped at the bottom, both men got off and headed out the door. Joey looked up at the bright sky and said,

"Frankie, this may be the beginning of a beautiful relationship."

"It's Frank-KAY."

"I like Frankie better."


	3. Vehicular Mishap

Frank turned left on the sidewalk and Joey followed him, they proceeded to walk to Frank's car.

"So, listen" Frank said as they moved. "I might know a guy here who can help us with LaSalle. Provided we do some things for him first."

"And who might this guy be?" Joey wondered aloud.

"Marvin Mahoney. He's-- Damn it!"

Frank suddenly stopped in his tracks. His eyes fixed on a certain spot on the sidewalk.

"My car! They stole my fucking car!" he yelled out.

"Who stole your car?"

"Anyone!"

He looked around to see if the perpetrator was still around. As if a guy who just stole a car was going to walk.

"Eh, it wasn't that great anyhow. Let's just take another one." He gave up and walked on.

"So they stole a car that you stole." Joey said; a little surprised.

"It's a cycle. Look at it this way, we're like carpooling."

Joey had thought Frank was different from the other lowlifes that hung around here, but then realized that anyone who was looking for a job with the mob was definitely not a nice man. Frank spotted a car parked a few steps away. It was your better-than-average car. A black Sentinel XS. It was a nice looking car, good for getting into high-speed chases. He went over to the driver's side and started picking the lock.

"This city… it's got a lot of shitheads." Frank divulged with him, still fiddling with the door. "It ain't safe anywhere. Once saw an old lady rob a bank down at Madsen Avenue."

Joey chuckled.

"I ain't kidding, man. She was my landlord.

Just then, the car's alarm sounded.

"Oh, shit."

"For the love of God." Joey picked up a rock on the ground and threw it toward the car's window. The glass broke and he unlocked the car.

"You catch on quick, huh." Frank was clearly impressed at what he saw.

"I was top of my class." Joey said, nonchalantly.

"Which school?"

"Home school."

After hotwiring the car, it sprang to life with a smooth whirring sound. Joey pressed on the gas pedal and the engine roared loud, making bystanders stare as they walked.

"What the hell is that sound?" A man wearing a red suit was startled by the all the commotion.

"Hey, isn't that your car. And who're those guys inside?" another man spoke; this one was wearing a red jacket and brown pants. He wasn't the only one with that clothing; a dozen guys who seemed to be with them also supported his look, more or less.

The red-suited man spun around and laid his eyes on the black Sentinel that was puffing smoke out of its exhaust.

"Shit! Well don't just stand there, come on! They're stealing my car." he ran off followed by the others, cursing as he sped towards the car.

"Now you done it" Frank complained, he saw that a number of guys were headed for the car and he could only conclude on one thing. "I knew this car was too good to be true."

"You better hold on to your panties." Joey said as he shifted gear. Unfortunately, he accidentally put it in reverse and the car shifted backwards. Worse, they hit a police car that was parking just behind them.

"What the hell, man--" Frank shouted.

"Sorry, I haven't been in these things for a while." he reasoned out, changing the gear to drive.

"Whatever, just floor it!"

The car zoomed forward away just before a barrage of bullets hit them coming from the back. After a few blocks, Joey looked into the side mirror and saw that they were being chased by the police car and a couple of cars that were the same as theirs.

"Turn a left here and go straight until the road splits, then turn right." Frank told him as the car swiveled left. He took out a semi-automatic pistol in his left pocket and started shooting at their pursuers. He was basically shooting anybody, as one of the bullets hit a pedestrian right in the eye and most of them only hitting air.

He did manage to hit one of the mob guys but then he also hit a cop, which prompted his partner to call for backup.

"Damn! Why did you have to hit that cop?" Joey barked, exasperated.

"He already had it coming, anyways."

Joey could now see where the road split; he then pushed the car to go even faster. It was too late when he realized that there was a car up ahead moving straight toward them, showing no signs of stopping. He tried to turn but the car crashed into them sideways. The guy who hit them also wore a red jacket; his passenger was wearing one too.

"Get down!" Frank yelled. There was a cut on the right of his forehead, so much blood was gushing out that he had closed his right eye. He fired his gun on the driver and it hit him squarely on the head; he plopped onto the steering wheel with a thud. "Drive, drive!"

Joey drove off, bullets breaking through the backseat windows. They had passed the gunmen's car when another one tried to run over them again. It narrowly missed their car and crashed onto a wall just behind the other one. The two obstructing cars were enough of a delay for them to get another head start.

"OK, turn right and then turn left at the first chance. Then we're home free." Frank informed him while he was looking for anything that might be able to cover his wound. But once they turned left, they were greeted by a swarm of police cars blocking their way.

"Oh, shit. I forgot the police station was on this street." Frank blurted out.

"Anything else you forgot? Your brain, maybe?" Joey fumed, turning the car around and going back the way they came.

As they were turning the corner, a mob car crashed into them at full speed. It knocked back the car straight onto the wall, smashing Joey's head through the already broken window and right into the wall itself. His head was throbbing madly and he could feel a lump growing on the side of his head.

"LET'S GO, LET'S GO!" Frank didn't look to have been shaken up by the impact and had even stepped on Joey's foot to reach the gas pedal. The car was still good, although smoke was coming out of the engine making their line of sight obscured.

"Damn it, you stepped on my foot." Joey grumbled, still clutching the side of his head, which now oozed with blood.

"If we'd have gotten caught we'll be lucky if that was the only thing they did to us. They're not out for the car anymore; they're out for us now."

Joey thought he had a point. Why else would the mob still chase them if the car were already halfway to smithereens?

"These guys are out for revenge. Even if this car blows up while we're in here, they'll still take our dead corpses and crush them into ice cubes, and then maybe they'll feed them to their Rottweilers or something—oh, shit."

"What? What is it?" Joey asked. Frank was staring ahead and he did the same but was finding nothing unusual.

"This street only goes straight, there're no intersections here. We'd better hope that things run smoothly."

After three blocks, they saw that they were coming up a bridge. But they weren't alone, a barricade of police cars was in front of the entrance to the bridge and the mobsters had sped up, closing in on them, already, they pulled out their guns and started firing.

"Damn. How come these cops are only going after us?" Joey wondered, very pissed.

"The mob must have had a leash on those damn cocksuckers. But what do we do now? I don't think this car can make it if we try to force our way through." Frank said in worried tone. It seems there was no way out of this. Either be mince meat for the mob or give ourselves up to the feds who'll turn us in to the mob who'll turn us into mince meat.

Suddenly, Joey grabbed the pistol Frank was holding and told him to hold the wheel.

What're you gonna do? Shoot each and every one of these guys." Frank joked hysterically.

Joey tried to cock his head out of the window but a hail of bullets was coming back and forth that he couldn't take aim. He then opened the back door on his side and pushed it out, doing the same to his door.

"Hold my pants." he told Frank who was looking at him blankly, completely lost at the situation but nonetheless complied.

Joey bent down in his seat, his body lurching sideways and out of the car. He bent lower and lower, his left hand holding the handgun, until he was only a few inches above the ground. He was below the door now so he took aim at a police car as bullets passed above.

"Only one shot." he muttered, closing his right eye like he was using a sniper rifle. Then, he pulled the trigger. The bullet soared through the air and struck the gas tank. In an instant, the throng of policemen was barbecued in a ball of fire. Black smoke was erupting about from the mayhem.

Frank pulled back Joey who was undoubtedly amazed at that miraculous feat. He gave the wheel back to Joey while he still had that flabbergasted look in his face.

"Godammit! You did it! You fucking did it!" Frank exclaimed. A big grin emerged on his face.

They went through the cloud of smoke without even realizing what they had done.

"Shit. I can't see where hell I'm go--"

"Watch Out!"

They emerged from the smoke to find themselves about to collide head-on with an oncoming truck. Joey swerved the car out of the way and it ended up on another lane, which was enclosed with cones.

"Did you see what that sign said?" Joey asked him.

"I think it said dead e-_nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd_--"

The smoldering black Sentinel was falling 20 feet towards the clear, blue waters. Both of them jumped out and all three splashed into the ocean separately. A few moments passed, and then the two men rematerialized. Joey was gazing up in the sky with an infuriated expression.

"How in the hell did this happen to me?" he screamed.

"Hey, if it's any consolation, we're only 10 miles from my place. If we take a car--"

"Frank... shut up."


	4. Dead Men Tell No Tales

After they had stayed in Frank's apartment they set out towards a black market where a certain Marvin Mahoney was running his base of operations. They decided to take the train after their little escapade last night.

It was quarter past ten when they reached the place. Joey still remembered the old place years ago. Back then it was just like a regular market except rather than buying fruits and vegetables you bought guns.

Now, it didn't look anything like what it was before. For starters the market was held underground for obvious reasons but now it had turned into a giant clubhouse. They walked inside; the place had a stack of chairs lined up in rows, all facing the front where the floor was elevated. There was a table in the center, like the one where people stood to speak.

"That's where the real shit goes down," Frank informed him, pointing to the stage. "The guns here get auctioned to the highest bidder."

Frank motioned him towards the door on the left. It led to the supply room, which was twice as big as the one they had just left. Piles of crates sat on top of each other bearing nametags; all of them stored dangerous weapons.

Frank went ahead while Joey browsed through. He saw a chubby guy wearing suspenders and a white shirt talking in his cell phone. Frank recognized him at once.

"Yes, Mr. Torrence. The guns will be delivered to you first thing in the morning, er, I mean, later in the evening... I-I, uh, no-no, I-I said it'll be there in an hour. Alright, a pleasure doing business wi--."

The caller hung up, and it left an unsavory distastefulness in the man's expression. It took only a moment thought to notice Frank coming up to him, then his eyes fixed at Joey.

"Mr. Mahoney, me and my friend want to offer our services to you. In return, we want you to help us contact Mr. LaSalle so—"

Marvin waved a finger at him and started dialing in his phone.

"Stay right there."

He moved a few steps away and had his back facing them. He talked in a slightly quieter voice that was barely heard. Frank tried to listen in on the conversation without moving closer.

"... yeah, it's true...I ain't kidding...no, I ain't smoking weed... what do we do... what, but why—... ... okay."

He clicked his phone and tucked it in his pocket.

"Okay, so you say that you boys are going to work for me. And in return you want to meet with LaSalle. And that means I'm not gonna pay you or anything, right? ... alright, you got a deal."

He glanced at Frank, who looked surprised that he had already agreed without even so much as a preference, and then at Joey who was still not paying attention to them, he was now browsing the crates filled with explosives; he cast them both with doubtful looks but continued on.

"I've got a job for you, it's not high risk, I'll save that for later. You have to go to this bar. The owner hasn't been paying his 'protection money' for a while now. I want you to go straighten him up; he's at Salem's lot. If you got any problems, here's my number."

Frank nodded and walked back to the door, calling Joey to get a move on.

"Shit. There must be millions worth of guns in here." he said as he followed Frank back outside.

Once they had gotten out, Frank began trekking once more to the train station but Joey went the opposite direction.

"Hey, can we stop by a friend of mine? He's just down this block." Joey told him.

Frank made to protest but it didn't look like it was going to do any good. They stopped at a place called Liquor Haven. Joey went in while Frank informed him that he was going to look for a payphone to call someone.

The place was empty except for Deke who was behind the bar. At first Joey couldn't believe that the bar was falling apart but then remembered that it was only morning. He sat in one of the stools closest to Deke who was cleaning the bottles behind him and didn't notice Joey.

"Hey, Deke. The usual."

"Heh, no one's ever said the usual." he turned around to face the wise guy who was fooling with him. "The only guy who did that—"

"—is standing right in front of you." Joey finished his sentence for him.

Deke dropped the bottle he was cleaning and turned pale white.

"Oh, God! It's finally happened. All those years of taking those pills and nuthin' has finally gotten to me. I'm seeing dead people now."

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm not dead." Joey said trying to sound angry but, in fact, was trying had not to laugh.

Deke looked to be unconvinced, then suddenly burst out a mixture of anxiety and joy on his wrinkled gray face. His stony expression became a look of desperation. He thrust his hands on Joey's shoulders, which almost made him stumble off the chair.

"Thank God. You're alive. You don't know how much this means to me." Deke said, his eyes not straying away from Joey's.

"Calm down. Jeez, you weren't going to let me rest in peace without paying my dues, were you?"

"You can call it off now. You can tell those prickheads to fuck off and leave me alone."

"What are you talking about, Deke?"

"I'm talking about LaSalle. Ever since you disappeared, he started making me pay protection money. He demanded more money every time, even though he wasn't looking out for me. I was even robbed and he didn't do a damn thing about it! Now, I can't pay him the money so he decided that he's just gonna demolish my bar. The bar that I've raised for so long! My home, Joey! I can't let him do that!"

His voice was rising as he spoke but quickly turned back to his timid tone.

"But now you're back. A-And you're gonna help me, right? Help me beat those guys, cause you're the kingpin again. Drive that fucking bastard out of your city. Or-Or just cap him right there and then...I-I know this place, you know, Curney's gun shop? You still remember that place right, back when you got yer first start. It's still there Joey, I can take you there. Get all the guns you need. Do-Don't worry, I'll pay for it. I-I still have some money left--no problem, yeah, all you need's just one bullet right?!"

Joey didn't know what to say. He wasn't greeted like royalty when he came back; people had already forgotten about him. He didn't know where to begin with as he himself was starting out again.

"Deke, I'm sorry, I can't help you." at these words Deke's heart sunk, he let go of Joey. "I'm not the boss in this town anymore. I'm even taking orders from some guy now. Says he wants me to beat up some guy in Salem's lot..."

"Can't you do anything? Just talk to LaSalle, please." Deke pleaded.

"Even I can't do that."

He stood up his chair.

"But... I'll try to do something. After we get this job done, he said he was going to give us an audience with LaSalle." he walked out the door. "I'll probably see him tomorrow, you come along and we'll persuade him. No matter what it takes."

"But..."

* * *

They reached Salem's lot at 5 minutes till twelve, searching for the bar but there didn't seem to be any. When they contacted Marvin they realized that it wasn't a liquor bar, like they first thought, but a topless bar. They found it minutes later, in between two abandoned shanties.

Upon entering, an usher came to greet them. Joey asked him if they could see the manager to which he complied. The usher went to the back and soon another man came out. He had a slim, bony face with a thin moustache and hair that parted right in the middle. The man eyed the two suspiciously.

"I haven't seen you guys here before. You from here?" the manager asked.

"Uh, no. We're here about the protection money. You seem to be overdue with your payments." Frank answered, trying to put it as cordial as he could.

"Ah, Mr. Mahoney sent you. I've been meaning to tell him," two men suddenly came out, brandishing submachine guns, wearing the same red jackets and brown pants they had seen so many times before. "That I've decided to go under new management."

He smiled scornfully; the two gun-wielding men stood beside him.

"I'm afraid that you'll have to tell your boss that it's just not working out anymore, and if he's got a problem with that he'll have to talk to Mr. Estrada."

His hand directed them towards the door; neither moved an inch. Joey didn't want to leave; they had to finish this job. It was the only way he'll be able to talk to LaSalle, and be able to help Deke. Then he got an idea.

"Ehrm, my throat, it's kinda dry. Can I get a glass of water?" he asked, breaking the silence.

The manager looked at him with contempt but gave in to his request. He nudged the guy on his right to get the water, the guy didn't want to get it but after a few more ribbings he did what he was told. Joey took the glass and drank its contents. As he did so, the glass broke. He crushed the fragments of glass in his hand and threw the sharp bits in the man's face.

The man screamed in pain while Frank had taken out his semi-automatic but was forced to duck when the other guard started shooting wildly. Both Frank and Joey went for cover, hiding behind one of the couches. Bullets fired in all directions, sending people in a panic and scurrying out the door.

The other guard started to copy his partner's actions despite the fact that blood streamed down in the cuts on his face, his left eye was shut but blood was clearly flowing out of it. Apparently, he'd rather put a bullet through Joey's head than find the nearest doctor.

"Dammit. How come they didn't even give us a gun for this goddam job?" Frank said angrily to no one in particular.

"I'll fix this." Joey took something out of his pocket with his uninjured hand. After removing its clip, he threw it towards the counter; the two guards didn't notice it.

"Shit. Was that—"

An explosion erupted from the counter. The two men were pushed off their feet by the blast, hitting the wall hard. Frank stood up.

"Where's our man?" he said, looking around.

"He must've run off in the back. You track him there. I'll go up front in case that son of a bitch tried to go around." Joey said as Frank headed to the backdoor.

Joey opened the double doors up front but was surprised to see he was surrounded by men twenty feet ahead of him, all aiming their guns at him. Joey jumped back inside as the men fired their Uzis, one of them shot his leg.

"Argh! Damn it!" he screamed, clutching his leg.

He limped towards the bar and searched for a first aid kit. There was none so he settled himself with a piece of cloth, tying it around the wound. He dropped to the floor and rested against the wall; bullets still coming through the door, their rounds seemed to have been endless.

Joey closed his eyes and craned back his neck. 'I can't believe their backup's already here' he thought. 'And me without a gun. Damn it! I gotta do somethin quick' he took a deep breath and suddenly remembered about the machine guns. Reaching for the counter's surface, he pulled himself up. But as he did, he heard a click from behind and felt the cold end of a gun pressed to the back of his head.

Joey heard feet shuffling and guessed there were two more men with him. He tried to think of a way to ambush the man who held him at gunpoint but thought that even if he could, without a gun and his leg in pain he doesn't stand a chance against the other two. He wondered if they caught Frank, thinking that these men entered from the back. His question was answered by another question.

"We saw a guy running past the alley. I think he might 'a came here. Who was that guy?" he asked Joey. There was no response.

"I think you better start talking here or else the next thing that's coming out of your mouth is gonna be hot lead." the man threatened.

"Eeep." Joey responded in a colorless tone.

The man wasn't too pleased with his answer and was ready to pull the trigger when his cell phone rang.

"WHAT THE HE—oh sir... yes, yes, I got him... you're saying don't kill him?... Tony said that, but... yes sir." he clicked off the phone and walked back to Joey, furiously.

"You lucky little prick—"

"Aaaargh!"

The man smacked his gun on the side of Joey's head; he fell on the floor and passed out.

* * *

After a while, he awoke to see that they were gone and was all alone. He sat up and rubbed his head.

"Just great. Now I've got one on each side."

He stood up, the pain in his leg still evident. Looking at the clock he saw that it was already past one. He stared at his surroundings, which was a wreck. At least the gunmen were gone he thought.

"JOEY." a voice boomed from behind the backdoor as it opened.

He whirled around to see Frank's familiar face. Frank caught sight of him holding on to the ledge of the counter for support. He took his arm and helped him to the closest sofa.

"Did you get him?" Joey asked as he plopped down the cushions.

"No. I couldn't catch him, the wily little bastard." answered Frank.

"Well, his goons were waiting for me when I came outside." Joey said, trying to inform him of what happened. "I came back inside but one of them shot my leg" –pointing to the bandage– "then some of his men came from the back door and knocked me out."

"Hey, I gotta tell you something," Frank said in an ominous voice. "Those weren't the bar guy's men who shot at you."

Joey cast him an intrusive look.

"Someone ratted us out." Frank continued. "They already found the guy who did it."

* * *

"YOU STUPID LITTLE SNITCH!" Mahoney struck his fist in the guy's face; he was tied to a chair with tape over his mouth.

"YOU FUCKING INGRATE! After Mr. LaSalle took care of you and now you give him this shit." he screamed at the man's ear then punched him again, this time the chair had toppled over.

Mahoney took out his gun. "The only thing I hate more than a snitch is a snitch who rats us out." He fired a bullet in the man's arm; he let out muffled screams and broke into tears.

"Yeah, that's it. Cry all you want, you goddam piece of shit!" Mahoney thrust the gun into the man's thighs and the bullet pierced through it. The poor man writhed in his seat helplessly, his cries subdued.

Mahoney pulled off the tape; the man's mouth shook uncontrollably. "What've you got to say for yourself, huh? ANSWER ME!"

He spat out the words in a garbled manner "P-P-l-lease-don't... k-kill me..."

"Too late." he fired bullet after bullet into the man's head. The sobbing and whimpering died out, there was only an eerie silence.

After a brief stillness, Mahoney started to walk out.

"Burn down the bar and dump his body along with it. Since he liked the damned place so much we'll bury him there." he said his last words and then shut the door behind him.


	5. Mistaken Identity

An old, musty Voodoo braked noisily in front of the black market. Joey stepped out of the passenger seat, jogging as fast as his throbbing leg would allow. He pushed the Venetian wooden doors open, almost banging it apart, and marched his way into the supply room.

Marvin was again talking in his cell phone when they saw him.

"Where's Deke?!" Joey shouted, staring at Marvin as he came closer.

He turned off his cell phone. "Who? Oh, _that_ guy. The stupid pric—" Joey pulled Marvin by his shirt, slamming him against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Where is he?" Joey asked again through gritted teeth.

"Hey, hey, hey. Put me down. I was doing you a favor." Marvin commanded but Joey didn't budge. "The guy ratted you out—yeah—your so-called friend sold you out to the Torrences so he could save his bar."

At these words Joey's initial feelings of anger were suddenly surged with a new feeling: regret. He thought of the last time they talked. How inconsiderate he was of Deke, he should have cared more about the situation. Suddenly, he couldn't help but feel angry at himself. His anger towards Mahoney seemed pointless now. He was only doing his job and nothing more. There was no love, no pity for anyone. Joey should have known better, this was a cutthroat business no matter what. Now he paid the price for it... maybe they both did.

But still, he believed that Deke was the only friend he ever had here. He remembered the countless times he sat in that bar, drunk as hell, blurting out things that would have been a valuable piece of information outside the streets but not once did those words leave the room. Yet as he stood there, realizing the painful truth. He wondered, did it really?

"Hey, you listenin'?" Marvin's words took him out of his daze; Joey didn't realize that he had already let him go. "As I was saying, how the fuck did he know about it?"

Joey didn't say a word, avoiding Marvin's gaze. He saw Frank do the same too, he wasn't sure but he thought Frank had already figured it out.

Marvin let out a deep sigh and continued on. "Never mind. But I do have one more thing to say. I just talked to Mr. Estrada and he told me that his men were found dead in the bar I sent you to. Not only that but he told me that 'his' bar was a wreck." he let out a chuckle. "Do you believe that? His?"

He paused for a moment then shook his head. "Anyway, it's bad enough that you left the place in ruins," –Joey made to complain– "but you also had to piss off Estrada, especially now."

He started to walk back and forth with his fingers pecking his chin. "Alright, I'll give you two another chance. You see tonight's the night we make our transaction with Estrada and I want you to be the one to go there—"

"—so we can take all the blame and you don't get your hands dirty." Joey intervened. He still felt angry but not as much as he should have been.

"Well, you ain't exactly got nuthin' to do with this. Besides, Estrada said he wanted to see the guys responsible for it. Who knows maybe he'll invite you to some tea and biscuits."

Joey didn't look amused and began to turn around but then Marvin said something else.

"H-Hey, wait. OK, I'll make it worth your while. If you do this then I'll, uh...arrange that meeting with LaSalle, yeah. That's what you came here for, right?"

Joey stopped in his tracks and turned back to Marvin. He took a glance at Frank who didn't say anything but his eyes gave the impression that he wanted to take the offer.

"... Fine. But what are we bringing?" he asked.

"2 tons of coke in exchange for half a dozen crates of the most state-of-the-art sniper rifles."

"And they agreed to that?"

"This isn't your ordinary cocaine." he said with a hint of smugness. It's black cocaine. Cocaine that's virtually undetectable. And all you have to do is give the stuff, get the guns and then get out of there."

"Assuming he doesn't intend to kill us, the guys who trashed his place."

"That's a chance I'm willing to take."

* * *

After an hour or so, and Joey getting some treatment for his leg, the two set out in a Yankee, carrying two tons of 'black' coke and heading towards their destination, which was at Motel views in Downtown Vanderville. They were waiting for the stoplight to turn when Joey began to speak.

"Hey, you know a guy named Tony?" he said.

"..."

"Hey, you listenin'?"

"Yeah, I'm listenin'. I'm just thinking." Frank became silent again, looking up at the empty intersection. "... hmm, never heard of him."

"The guy at the bar," Joey continued. "He was on the phone with that Tony, said he didn't want me dead yet,"

"Maybe you just forgot who that Tony guy was." Frank offered as Joey tried to remember. "Anyway, I haven't told you this but you probably know by now that the city is reined by the three mob bosses."

"There's LaSalle who controls most of the city; Estrada, he actually has the least control land-wise, however, he owns about more than 90 of the docks so he's got an advantage in trading over the other two. And there's Torrence... who... um—"

"—yeah, I know." Joey said quickly, without any emotion.

Frank changed the subject. "But it wasn't always like this. About 5 years ago the city only had one big mob, although they didn't act as one. It was more like they were forced to act as one. I wouldn't doubt that the guys who ran it didn't have their full cooperation."

Joey made an unsettling laugh and silently said 'you're telling me'. Frank apparently didn't notice.

* * *

When they reached the place they saw that their dealers were waiting in the middle of the streets. It would have been questionable seeing how 'open' this transaction was placed but since there was practically no one around and they had just passed what looked liked a barricade, it seemed all right for now.

Frank parked the car in front of a horde of people, all wearing red jackets except two. The first one was the same guy who owned the car that was now sleeping on the ocean floor. Even now the guy was fuming, they were thankful that he didn't recognize them.

The other, who they figured was Estrada, wore the same red suit. He had white hair that was pushed back, glistening smoothly in the sunset; it was quite a contrast to his tanned appearance. Estrada was of Columbian descent and it showed when he spoke.

"Ah, so you must be LaSalle's convoy, yes?" Estrada's eyes flashed upon seeing them but there was no hint of malice whatsoever.

"Y-Yes, we are." Frank had stuttered. He seemed to have been taken aback by his pleasant tone. "We've got the black cocaine you wanted. How about Mr. LaSalle's weapons?"

"_HEY!_" the red-suited man bellowed. "You got some nerve doubting Mr. Estrada. You're in the presence of a crime lord here. Show some fucking respect."

"It's alright, Penchelo." Estrada waved his hand and Penchelo backed off, reluctantly.

"Of course. It would be rude if we didn't do the same." Estrada said and he motioned them towards a van. He opened the rear doors to show six wooden crates. "If you'd like to see them to be sure..."

"No, it's okay." Frank said at once so as not to displease Penchelo again, he looked like he was ready to kill the first person who makes the wrong move and for him, Frank thought, that doesn't give you a lot of options. "So how do you want to do this? Maybe you can take our car and we'll take this one."

"That sounds fair." Estrada answered and then ordered one of the men to give them the key.

Frank took it but before they continued on, Estrada stopped them. "Before you go, perhaps you could join me for supper first."

"T-Thank you for the offer, Mr. Estrada. But we really couldn't—"

"Goddam it, you little prick! You don't just refuse Mr. Estrada's request. If he wants you to join him then you join him, or else _I'll_ make you join him." Penchelo fired.

"Again, Penchelo, it's alright. They can go I'm sure they have other matters to attend to." Estrada's eyes glistened once more as he looked at Joey. "But I ask one more favor. Could you tell me your names? Your _full names_?"

Frank thought it was weird but really didn't see any harm to it. He was about to comply to Estrada's request when a herd of sirens broke the still air.

"Shit, it's a raid. How did the feds know about this?" Penchelo said angrily, looking at Frank and Joey.

"Don't be stupid. Why would we want to turn ourselves in?" Frank clarified.

The feds had started firing their guns, resulting for them to fend for cover. Joey, Estrada and Penchelo were all bunched up behind the van while Frank hid behind a Sentinel XS next to them, two other men were with him.

"I thought you had control over the cops here?" Joey asked.

"Yeah, we do—on our part of town. These fucks must have come from the other mobs. Like, say, LaSalle's." Penchelo snapped but Joey didn't take heed to this.

Estrada and his men took out their Uzis and started firing back; Joey and Frank followed their lead. The feds only came from the other side of the street so they were still able to make a getaway, although they had to take the goods which while they could easily take the van, the Yankee was a little ways to go and Penchelo certainly wasn't going to let them go through like that.

Then Joey heard a familiar gunshot he knew so well.

"Are those sniper rifles?" he asked.

"What? Yeah, up in that building there. There's about two or three of them." Penchelo said.

Just after he spoke a whirring sound was heard overhead, right on top of that building. They could see a helicopter hovering over it, then gunshots and then a man descending to the concrete pavement.

"Aww, this is some shit. We really are truly blessed with shit, you know that?" Penchelo complained.

"There's too many of them." Estrada spoke in a distraught voice, his men weren't doing well either, their numbers were dwindling. "We have to leave the goods. Joey—"

But Joey wasn't with them anymore. He was running towards the building, barely managing to make it without getting hit.

"Where the hell's he going?" Frank said in a restless tone.

"To save our hides." Estrada replied as he looked on.

Joey ran up the stairs like mad until he reached the top. He saw that there were four feds who had their guns aimed at the two remaining snipers and there was also the helicopter, they didn't notice him yet though.

Luckily, the helicopter began moving downward heading for the melee on the streets. Joey made his move. He shot the cop nearest to him on the head. Before the rest could realize what happened, Joey had blasted a hail of bullets on the second cop.

The other two now started their assault; one of the snipers used his rifle to hit one of the cops on the side of his head and crashed to the floor. His fellow cop didn't take this lightly and shot the sniper repeatedly but it gave Joey enough of a distraction to take the last cop down.

He ran forward and pulled up the passed out cop and carried him toward the edge of the building. Joey surveyed below and found his intended target in a perfect position.

"A little help here." he told the sniper.

The sniper obliged and helped him pick up the cop. Together they threw him over the edge and he fell on top of the helicopter's rotors. This made the helicopter unstable, eventually plummeting to the ground and bursting into flames.

There was still a number of feds down below so Joey took the sniper's rifle and positioned himself.

"Hey—" the sniper started.

"Trust me. I know more about this than you do." Joey cut him. "What the hell... I don't need this."

He took the rifle's scope and forcibly removed it.

"Hey, man. Are you crazy?" the sniper was shocked.

"It'll just slow me down." Joey said and gave the scope back to him.

The sniper wasn't sure if Joey had his head on right to take _this _out, but once Joey started shooting his disposition about him changed. He was astounded at how Joey was able to shoot so accurately without even using a scope and what's more was how he reloaded with such speed. One by one the cops were falling.

"Who are you?" was the only thing the sniper could say.

"I'm just your friendly neighborhood sharpshooter."

* * *

Joey walked back down and out the streets. He was greeted by an ecstatic Estrada with Frank and Penchelo behind, they, too, were grinning.

"I was right, yes, I was right." Estrada took Joey's hand with both of his and kissed it genially. "So you really are alive. Joey "Sharpshooter" Giovanni."

"Sharpshooter?" Frank asked.

"You didn't know?" Estrada responded, surprised. "He is the original and the TRUE crime lord of Vanderville City. Famed for his remarkably unmatched accuracy. He commanded this town 5 years ago until... his sudden death."

"Yeah... my death." Joey slowly took out a magnum revolver tucked behind and in a second, had it aimed at Estrada's forehead. "You think I forgot, huh? 5 years ago, on that night of the drug deal, you were supposed to be my backup, but you were never there, were you?!"

"What the hell, man?" Frank blurted out. He took out his gun and pointed it at Penchelo just as he aimed his at Joey.

There was a tense silence for a moment. And then someone spoke.

"Joey," Estrada began, he didn't look to be fazed at the situation. "I was there. But we left at the last moment."

"_Why_?" he demanded.

"Because LaSalle told us to. Your right-hand man told us to leave." Estrada replied blankly. Eyes of a regretful man staring back at him.

Joey didn't know whether to believe it. He didn't want to believe it but yet..., in the end he let go off him and they walked off toward the van.

"Hey, um," Penchelo suddenly spoke. "The coke's kind of, um, got burnt."

He pointed at a blackened vehicle of what looked like the Yankee they came here with.

"It still black ain't it." Joey finished and they took off.

* * *

"Hey, Marvin. We got the guns; we'll be there in about an hour... hello?" Joey called.

"... ...Oh, right... the guns. Well, bring them here, got that?" Marvin clicked off his phone before Joey could say anything else.

"What's up with that guy?" Joey frowned.

He put the cell phone back in his pocket and said to Frank: "Drive me home, Jeeves."

"Very funny." Frank said sarcastically as Joey made a little laugh, he thought that this was still a better mood for him than what he was expecting from Joey.

Just then, the cell phone rang.

"Yeah, who is this?" Joey answered.

"Mr. Giovanni," the caller said. "I believe we have some information that might interest you...a lot."


	6. Biting Off More Than You Can Chew

It was 6:30 in the evening. The sun had set in Vanderville and was replaced with an eerily full moon. There were no bright stars, only dark clouds lingering in this big city. A dark blue van sped up casually past the fluorescent lights of the streets.

It stopped just at the edge of Delaware avenue, in front of a building that covered about ¼ of the street. Two men stepped down the vehicle and proceeded to walk up to the large edifice.

"So, we tell him that, if he doesn't come through with the deal." Frank said as he opened the door.

Unlike before, the place had become filled with numerous people. Men showing of class chatting with others alike. Busboys scurrying about, trays in hand to serve to the honored guests. But Frank and Joey didn't pay attention to them instead they walked past onto a door on the side.

"Yeah and I am pretty sure that's what's going to happen. I didn't think that prick was really gonna do it." Joey said.

"How can you even be sure?" Frank questioned as he followed his partner.

"I'm sure. Trust me."

They reached Marvin who had a slightly bewildered look in his face which he then quickly hid when he saw the two. He seemed twitchier than before.

"Oh, you're. . . back. A-And the guns?" Marvin asked.

"They're in the van outside." Joey informed him.

"Well—Well, I. . . have to take a look at them first, in case there's something wrong with them." Marvin started to walk toward the door leading to the main hall but Frank stopped him.

"Don't worry, we already checked." Frank said.

"R-Right, okay. You guys did a good job." Marvin said, trying to appear calm before them. He patted Frank on the back and began to walk away again.

"Mr. Mahoney, about our agreement." Joey cut in before he could do so, he was feeling impatient.

"Yes, um, you wanted to talk with LaSalle, right?" he became more edgy as he spoke. "You see, I wasn't able to persuade Mr. LaSalle to talk to you."

Joey rolled his eyes and looked at Frank with a tired expression.

"But, come on. You can't blame Mr. LaSalle for that. Why just recently his son was shot and he's still in remorse about it." Marvin said, his voice changing into a depressing one to suit his mood.

"Speaking of which," Joey intervened once more but this time the next words that came out of his mouth made a lasting impression on Mahoney, "I think we have some information regarding the whereabouts of his son's killer."

"W-W-What?!" Marvin blurted out, eyes widening that they were about to pop out of their sockets.

"Yeah, you know, Bernard Thompson. Black guy, 6 foot 2, about 195 pounds. I thought you should know much about him," Joey cast him a wary look, "After all, you're the one who recruited him."

Marvin's eyes grew wider still and he seemed to be backing away from them. "I-I. . . I-Is that so, I-I mean yeah I did. B-B-But if-f you're i-im-implying t-that-that— u-uh. . ."

Joey let out a big grin. They had Marvin right in the palm of their hands. Meanwhile, Marvin desperately tried to bid some time in hopes of steering this conversation but was failing miserably.

"W—. . . H-How the hell did you know about that—"

"It doesn't matter how. What matters is that Mr. LaSalle learns about this as soon as possible, and by that I mean now." Joey cited with a hint of gratifying urgency.

"Guys, please. I-I don't think—"

"—What? You don't think Mr. LaSalle would care for something like that." Marvin tried to respond but Joey quickly cut him off. "Oh, of course, he wouldn't. I mean, it's not like the guy killed his son or anything. . . wait, wait, I forgot, HE DID."

Joey reared his face close to Marvin which made him flinch uncomfortably. "So I'm asking you, give us LaSalle's phone number."

Marvin's breath grew dry, he was in utter silence. Then he took out his cell phone, his hands were trembling as he dialed in the number. Once he finished he gave the phone to Joey, it rung clearly in his ear.

"Mahoney. . . I was waiting for you. Did you cough get that job done." a raspy voice came through the other line. An old and dying voice, but Joey could still see the distinction of that voice from that of the old one he remembered so well.

"This ain't Mahoney. This is Joey." he answered back.

There were a few minutes of silence that hung in the air. But the guy at the other line came to again, a bit more distraught though.

". . .Joey. . . . . .no it can't be... ... uh, but—but that voice. . ."

"This _is_ me, Joey Giovanni." Joey retorted.

"I—I. . . I cough don't have time for this. I'm a busy man—" LaSalle replied rather hurriedly.

"Look, you stupid prick. It is me. If you don't wanna believe me why don't I just go there myself and then I'll flush you down _my_ toilet, yeah, _my_ toilet, in _my_ house."

"T-That's absurd. Y-You're a fucking lunatic. . . a-and besides, you might be some kind of hired gun out to get me for all I know."

Joey chuckled, "You know it's funny that you said it. Cause it just so happens that we do know a hired a gun and I'm sure you'd be more than willing to take him into your 'custody'."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Remember, six months ago, some black guy was hired to be your limo driver. Maybe with the time you had spent together you found out his name. Bernard Thompson."

LaSalle grew silent for a long time, in that time Joey could hear on the line heavy breathing, but then a new voice came booming out. An angry and frantic voice but at the same time was pleading. "J—Joey, bring that guy to me. Please cough cough I'll—I'll do anything. Just cough bring that fucking bastard to me. . . b—but don't kill him. . . I. . . I want him to suffer first."

"I knew you'd get the message, and now, _he's_ gonna get the message."

* * *

Two men were walking hastily down the street towards a vehicle.

"So, what'd ya think?"

"I think the guy was right all along. . . we know what to do now. Do you know what to do?"

"Yeah... more than you'll ever know."

* * *

A rickety old house came into view as Joey and Frank turned a curve. It settled on top of a hill along with other houses that were almost identical.

"That's some house he's got. For someone that was picked off the streets he sure made a living." Joey stated as the car sped to a halt.

They got out to the gloomy skies and walked towards Thompson's house. The house was old but not all that bad. A two-story building with a lush garden out front, complete with fences and a stone walkway.

But once they went inside they saw that the inside was a disaster. Furniture was turned, books and furnishings lay carelessly on the ground, dishes and glass broken into tiny pieces. Everything was out of place.

"What happened here? Looks like the guy was ransacked." Frank said.

"More like there was a struggle," Joey said while he surveyed the place, "Did anyone else knew about this guy? Estrada maybe, or that Torrence."

"I dunno. You're the one who talked to the guy." Frank replied dully. He trotted up the stairs and in a few seconds came back down. "The guy's not here."

"This is some shit," Joey gave a great sigh, "Maybe this was all a scam—" Joey stopped.

He thought he heard footsteps. Joey and Frank held still, listening for more footsteps. It came clearly with this new silence abound, but then, just as the sound became muted inside so did the footsteps stop also.

A moment of eerie silence swept the whole place. It seemed there was neither a passing car nor a chirping bird for miles. Joey furtively scanned the windows for any sign of the intruders which in itself was ironic seeing as they, too, were one.

When Joey efforts became futile he decided that they should take cover in case anything else happens. He was about to call to Frank, who was a few paces away, when his attention was abruptly turned to a window.

A small rectangular object came flying inside, landing on the shaggy carpet. It was a sleeping grenade. In mere seconds, smoke had emitted from it, sending Joey and Frank into a descent of utter unconsciousness.

* * *

". . . Goddam it! There's never any booze left when I'm here. . . gimme some of that."

"'Ey I was drinking that."

"Bah! This is such a pain in the ass. I wouldn't be here if that piece of shit never left."

"Well, only a damn idiot would still stay there when he knows someone's gonna come knockin' any second to put a bullet in his head."

"Well, why couldn't he have been one? We wouldn't have done this if Tony had done it by—. . . eh, so you're awake, huh. Quit your pussying, I know you can hear me."

Joey was still a bit dazed but heard everything they said. He was actually still numb from the gas but was really more concerned in hearing more from the conversation and so tried to play dead.

He slowly opened his eyes, trying to maintain the charade, and looked at the hazy surroundings to find that he was in a damp room filled with empty boxes and a lot of empty beer bottles scattered all around.

The two guys who were talking before looked at him fiercely. One of them was a big guy with broad shoulders and a shaggy goatee. He was bald and about twice the size of Joey, bordering the line of being not very muscular yet not all fat.

The other one was tall but very skinny. His most radiant features was his long crooked-like nose and big, round drooping eyes which looked like it hadn't had any sleep for sometime now.

The big guy spoke first: "How long were you awake, huh. . . not telling, eh," he made a loud snort and took a crowbar dangling from an open crate, "maybe I should slap you with this. Knock some sense into ya—"

"Calm down, porky. We still need him, you know." The tall one interrupted, his voice calm with a slight British accent, he held a half-empty bottle of booze.

"Don't call me porky," the big guy responded roughly, he shifted his eyes on Joey and whacked the crowbar on his other hand, "Well, I guess you're no use being dead."

He put the crowbar down and then leaned his body on Joey's shoulders. "Anyway, back to business. I'll be explaining everything—IF you haven't heard yet" —he gave Joey a bloodshot look— "Ya see, we brought you here cause the man you were after—"

"Who? Bernard Thompson?" Joey butted-in.

"Yeah, him—the fucking prick—well, we were after him too. And I guess you know what happened next. We kidnapped ya and tied you to a chair; uh, we thought you were the ones who took him."

"Where's Frank?" Joey suddenly remembered.

"Yeah, he's in that room," pointing to the far end of where they were, "Tony's, uh, having a little 'chat' with your friend. . . if you call it that." he chuckled a bit that made Joey uneasy.

"Don't worry," the tall one began once he was tired of observing them, "he's just telling your friend the details of your next assignment."

"And why should we help you?" Joey replied sharply.

"Cause what you need and what we need is just the same and that's seeing Thompson dead." the tall one replied back.

"Why? Why'd you want him dead?"

"I don't think you need to know anymore. Just do what you're told and everyone is happy."

There was a few minutes of silence until the door, which was supposedly where Frank was held, opened up. Frank, himself, appeared out of the room, a very dark room it was, no light came out, making Frank look like he had come out of a dark void.

He was blindfolded with his hands behind his back. Joey noticed that there were another set of hands resting on Frank's shoulders. Another man came forth, behind Frank. This one was classier looking than the other two, wearing a gray suit that looked rather old.

He was balding man who tried to cover it up by doing a comb over. The man had a face of someone who would sell you out in a heartbeat. Joey felt a great loathing over him even though he had never known this guy before.

The balding man closed the door and then released the ropes tying Frank. Once Frank took off his blindfold the man spoke to him.

"So, you know what you gotta do, right?" the balding man was looking at Frank but Joey thought he had glanced for about a second in his direction, somewhat menacingly.

"Yeah, yeah. . ." Frank replied, rubbing his wrists.

"Good." This time the man turned towards Joey. The man gave him a little smile, but there was something in that smile that just wasn't pleasing to Joey.

"And you must be Joey." the balding man spoke out.

"Are you Tony?" Joey responded, not taking his eyes off him.

The man started to laugh. "No, I'm not. And you shouldn't bother with Tony anymore, you've got bigger problems to take care off."

"How'd you know my name, anyway?" Joey said, turning to Frank who had shrugged apprehensively.

"We know a lot about you Mr. Joey Giovanni. We know a lot more than you'll ever know."


	7. The Plot Thickens

It had been some time after Joey and Frank went out of a back alley in a town miles away from Vanderville. Joey waited for Frank to start talking, but never said a word. He decided to go first, then.

"So what happened back there? Why'd they take you?"

"I dunno. They just blindfolded me and tied me to a chair. Then they told me what we had to—"

"W-Wait. 'They'? There was only one guy—and who was he, anyway?" Joey butted-in; he couldn't keep his anxiousness any longer.

"Yeah, I'm getting to that." Frank glanced at the built-in clock beside the odometer. It read 10:33 PM. "He said his name was Marco. He and Tony were there but I couldn't see Tony. He wouldn't let me."

"You mean Marco wouldn't let you?"

"No, Tony. He said if people found out who he was there'd be people who'll be looking for him or something."

"Fuck!" Joey said. "We don't even know who this damn Tony is." He stopped the car. There was a line in front for the toll booth to the bridge. The same bridge they unintentionally drove off and into the deep sea below.

Frank began again, "You sure you don't know this guy? I mean, you know, you might have known the guy or maybe heard of him before. When, uh, you were 'the boss'." There was a satirical emphasis on that last word. As if he still wasn't used to it.

"I told you, I never knew no Tonys." Joey replied.

Frank let out a long sigh. "Well, guess we have no choice but to trust him. We don't really know if his on our side or just playing us. But since he's helping us, for now..."

Joey was still suspicious but Frank was right, what else could they do? After all, Tony couldn't be that bad. He saved Joey's life before.

They entered Vanderville, minutes later. Frank suddenly spoke.

"Turn a left here. We're heading to the strip clubs."

Joey obliged. They were entering Estrada territory which made Joey feel a little uneasy because of the incident that happened a while back.

"Where did you say we're going?" Joey suddenly burst out.

"To the strip clubs" Frank repeated, "That's where Tony said we'd find him."

They passed a couple of blocks and found themselves in the livelier part of town, to say the least. Liquor stores, hookers on every lamppost wearing fishnet stockings and tube tops with faces suffocating in make-up, and nude houses after nude houses were the highlights of this area.

"There. That's the place" Frank pointed ahead to a place with a big Broadway sign up front, "Just park here so we don't get noticed."

They walked up to the big sign and saw a couple of Sentinel XS' parked beside it.

"Over here. We'll head the back wa—"

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Joey yelled hysterically. He was looking at the sign of the club. It read 'Manhunt XXX'.

Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. Thompson's a little...fruity." Frank replied rather briskly.

"Fruity?! He's gay!" Joey said frantically as a muscular guy walked past and winked at him.

"For God's sakes, come on." Frank walked toward the back alley with Joey following behind after a few more cursing.

Both of them didn't realize that there was a man already there.

"Oh, it's you two."

Penchelo was standing near the door of the building beside them. His bright red suit gleaming in the pale moonlight while he, apparently, was having second thoughts whether to go inside or not.

He looked at the both of them wearily. "And what are the two of you doing here?"

"Well, how about you?" Frank retorted as he and Joey stood opposite Penchelo.

"This is my territory so I can be here as I please while you two damn freeloaders—"

"Oh! I get it now!" Joey exclaimed. He cast Frank a devilish smirk and Penchelo realized what it meant; his eyes widened instantly.

"N-No! No! I-It's not what you think—"

"So, who's the lucky guy?" Frank ribbed as Joey chuckled.

"Shut your mouth! I outta bust a cap in your ass. Bunch of sons of bitches."

"Okay, Mr. Smithers. Don't whack us with your dildo." Frank said as he laughed and Joey, too.

"Alright, alright." Penchelo shouted, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I'll tell you the reason why I'm here."

He became serious and Joey and Frank were prompted to do the same.

Penchelo continued, "You might have seen those cars in the front" — pointing to one of them, a black Sentinel XS, — "those are from our men so there's a couple of them here."

He paused and took out a cigar. He looked at Joey. "Got a light?"

"Sorry, I don't smoke." Joey replied. Then Frank took out his lighter and gave it to Penchelo. He thanked Frank and lit his cigar. He went on with his story.

"You see, there's been people, in our faction, who seems to be making their own rules here without our knowledge. They wanna take over by themselves, and I'm not gonna allow that. I heard that they even got someone who, I hear, is worth very good collateral for both LaSalle and even Torrence."

After he finished, Penchelo flicked his cigar away and breathed out the last of the nicotine.

"So" Frank started, "you think they're here?"

"Probably" Penchelo said, "I know one of the guys involved is Johnny Cash who's in there. I'm sure he's here cause' I saw his car there. I busted his taillights a while back. The kid's head was getting too big."

"Well, I guess that's our man." Frank looked at Joey who nodded. They went in and Penchelo followed them albeit bewildered.

"What's going on here? What are you two talking about?" Penchelo demanded closing the door after they all went in.

"It's about that guy they have. We need him." Frank answered him.

They walked past a hallway with scantily clad men walking around. Joey and Penchelo were feeling really uncomfortable but Frank didn't seem to be fazed at all, he was even leading the way. He stopped at an empty room and checked inside with the other two trailing him.

"So that guy _is_ important." Penchelo said, wanting to clarify what he'd heard.

"Yeah" Frank retorted, he got straight to the point "Why, are you thinking of taking him for yourself?"

Penchelo chuckled, "Yeah, I thought about it but then Mr. Estrada wouldn't have approved it. He didn't like kidnapping people to blackmail them." He wiped sweat off his forehead again and, once more, became serious.

"Look, I'll help you guys so I can get rid of those shitheads and you get rid of whoever it is that's so important. _BUT_. Just to make it clear, you gotta promise me that whatever you're planning it won't have anything to do with Mr. Estrada."

Penchelo looked at Frank who had his back to him, rummaging in a closet.

"Yeah, okay. Nothing'll happen." Frank responded.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine... you might even get something out of this." Joey added before Penchelo could make that same stare at him.

Penchelo made a nod that signalled his acceptance and took out another cigar.

"Good" Frank cut-in, "Now that's settled... Joey, do you prefer a thong or _very_ short shorts?"


	8. The Key To Success

"Goddamit! I can't believe I'm doing this." Joey shouted, really pissed. Having being given the choice to wear either a thong or short shorts, which he opted for neither and instead took a police uniform. He still wasn't happy about it, though.

Frank insisted that he wear ass-less pants to compliment his look but Joey had drawn the line there.

"You sure you don't want these pants, they're still available?" Frank pleaded for the umpteenth time. He had a big grin on his face ever since he forced Joey to agree to this, which gave Joey the increasing desire to strangle him with it.

"Yeah, I bet the guys'll be all over you." Penchelo burst out, accompanied by loud laughter.

"Shut up you two prickheads." Joey fumed back. The other two continued to laugh.

After a few more adjustments they left the dressing room. A man, wearing a cat mask, a black leather skirt and matching vest, holding a leash with another guy at the end of it walking on all fours, passed the trio all the while looking at Joey.

"Hi, handsome—ouch! What?" The man on the leash pinched him from behind.

Joey repulsively looked at Frank. "God, remind me to kill you later."

They reached the stage where a lot of the dancers busily readied themselves. Frank went ahead and took a peep through the curtains.

"There's our man." Frank said, looking at a table where a dark-skinned man sat along with a couple of men who were wearing red jackets.

"How many are they?" Joey asked.

"Including Thompson... 6... 7... 8... there are nine of them."

Joey pulled up his Hawaiian shirt to reveal a pistol tucked on the side of his pants.

"Shit. And me with only a pistol." he muttered agitatedly. Then Joey realized something. "Wait a minute. I didn't have a pistol, I had an Uzi."

Frank turned around. "Didn't you remember? Those guys took our guns and gave us these silencers." Showing Joey his.

Joey took out his pistol and surveyed the suppressor at the end then checked if there was any ammo. There was none. "Goddamit, this thing doesn't even have bullets."

"Here," Frank took out a small white box from his pocket shirt, "some ammo. They gave it to me before we left."

"Well, we're still fucked up here. Hey, Penchelo—hey where is he?"

Joey looked around but Penchelo had disappeared.

"Dammit. A lot of help he turned out to be." Joey cursed.

"Forget about him. Here's the plan, you've got to do everything it takes to get that guy to _warm_ up to you. If that happens he'll eventually lead you upstairs."

"Why? What happens there?" Joey asks.

"Well, that's where the _real_ business happens, you know. And that's where I go in and we take the guy."

"Yeah, but—"

"Come on, no time for buts. Just go and remember what I told you." Frank stopped him and hurriedly pushed Joey out the curtains.

Once there, Joey found Thompson and the others sitting on one of the tables. Only one guy was willing to sit next to Thompson while the rest were standing and trying hard not to look past the entrance.

Joey figured the guy, who had black Elvis-like hair and a pretty good-looking face, was the leader Johnny Cash. He looked pretty bored in his state.

"Quit sulking, Johnny." Thompson snapped at him.

"Who's sulking?" Johnny said lazily, his smooth voice trailing off.

Thompson then tried to put his arm around him but was thwarted. "Look, just because we're here doesn't mean I don't want you anymore."

"What the fuck are you talking about, you dirty old bastard. Stop shoving your head up your ass all the time." Johnny said coldly, pushing himself away from him.

"That's not what you said to me when I was shoving something else up your as—"

"Whoa! H-Hey! Hey! W-What are you talking about...I never—I-I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Jeez, you're getting me all frustrated—l-lets just be quiet and watch the show." Johnny said hastily, suddenly breaking his cool demeanor. His eyes switched intently to Joey in an instant, determined not to look back.

* * *

After a few instances of what you may have called awkward dancing to say the least, Joey seemed to make some headway. Even though from someone else's standpoint it would have looked pitiful, nonetheless, it genuinely interested Thompson.

Once Thompson had seen enough he told Joey to accompany him upstairs, just like Frank had said.

"C'mere you," Thompson said, showing a sly smile. "I'm gonna teach you the ropes, heh heh."

"Hold on a sec. Where are you going?" Johnny burst out, his smooth persona intact once more.

"We're goin' upstairs." Thompson replied and grabbing Joey's behind in the process.

"No way, we're leaving this place already. You got your show. That was our deal here. I've had it with this shit, let's go—"

"—did I mention that you cried like a girl when we were making lo—"

"—okay, okay. Just go already." Johnny conceded.

The two walked upstairs into a lone hallway that occupied the whole floor. Joey glimpsed behind and saw Frank was only a few paces behind. He nodded and Joey did the same.

They stopped in front of a door at the very end of the hallway. A sign hung on the doorway that read: 'Reserved'. Thompson took out a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. Once he opened it, Joey grabbed Thompson and pushes him inside, stumbling onto the floor.

"What the hell—"

"Shut up, I'm taking you hostage." Joey commanded, taking out his pistol and pointing it at Thompson. He waited for Frank to come in and then closed the door

"What is this?" Thompson shouted.

Frank went over to him and tattooed his right cheek with the end of his pistol. "SHUT UP."

Thompson began spitting out blood while Frank took out a handkerchief then wrapped Thompson's mouth with it. He didn't dare move as Joey was still pointing his pistol at him.

After that, Frank took a nearby chair and ushered Thompson to it. He took a bed cloth and tied Thompson in the chair. Joey and Frank stared at the tied up guy in front of them then turned to each other.

"What now?" Joey asked, still looking at Frank.

Frank scratched his head. "I guess we'll have to go through those guys."

"Wait." Joey said, "Maybe we can make some kind of distraction."

At that point, they heard the doorknob rattling. The two steadied themselves, preparing for anything that might happen. But before their uneasiness prolonged, they heard a familiar voice outside.

"Hey! You two, you there?" Penchelo voice came ringing albeit in a hushed tone...well, as he possibly could.

Joey opened the door and Penchelo came barging about.

"How'd you know we were here?" Frank asked as soon as he came in.

"Cuz' yours was the only one that wasn't open... but I kinda wished the others were." Penchelo answered, shrugging and shaking his head.

Penchelo looked at Thompson who just sat there quietly, a fearful expression in his eyes, sweat trickling down on his forehead. It only lasted for a second and then he turned his face toward the other two.

"Listen, I think one of them saw me go up he—"

Penchelo stopped. His eyes had darted toward the open door of the room. A man, wearing a red jacket, was standing agape on the hallway.

"Oh, shi—"

The man tried to take out his gun but Joey had already fired his, leaning on the wall as he fell. Instantly, people started screaming and feet were suddenly shuffling. It didn't take long for Johnny and his men to come rushing upstairs to find out what the ruckus was all about.

By that time, Joey, Frank and Penchelo already had their guns ready and aimed. The trio fired a round, hitting two of Johnny's men and a male stripper, narrowly missing Johnny himself by a hair.

"Damn it! It _was_ that damned Penchelo! Goddamit! Where's Thompson?!" Johnny screamed.

One of the men spoke up, "He wasn't there with those others. I think he's still up there."

"ARGH!"

Another man was hit; his body slumping on Johnny's but quickly pushes it aside.

"Fuck, man! Mitch!" Johnny yells at the body but no response. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

The gunfight wore on, after five minutes 3 men went down on Johnny's side, leaving him and one more left. Panic had stricken them now.

"Johnny, we can't win anymore. Let's go back." the other pleaded.

"No goddam way!" Johnny snapped through gritted teeth, yet it was clear that he was losing hope as well. "N-No, we can't leave without Thompson."

"But Johnny—ARGH!—MY HAND!"

Johnny's last remaining man clutched his bleeding hand, but then a hail of bullets followed next. Unable to recover, he was hit by every bullet, dropping dead on the spot. With all of his men shot, Johnny had no choice but to flee.

"He's getting away!" Penchelo screamed, chasing after him. Joey and Frank followed behind.

Johnny tried to get a few more shots in to halt the trio's advance but had soon spent all his ammo before Penchelo had even come down.

Once outside, Johnny ran towards a Sentinel XS that had its taillights cracked. He opened the door and got inside, taking out his car keys and clocking it in the ignition. But the car wouldn't start. He repeatedly tried to start it again but wouldn't. Then he saw that the gas gauge was on empty.

"Shit! He didn't?!" Johnny burst out.

He looked in his side mirror and saw Penchelo, smiling with a cigar in his mouth. Johnny's shock turned even greater. He tried to open the car door but it was locked. Worse, the lock pin was taken out.

"FUCK! NO!!!" Johnny screamed for the last time.

Penchelo took out his lit cigar and flicked it towards the car. Within seconds the car burst into flames along with Johnny in it. The three men stood wearily as they looked on at the fiery flames of what was once a car, contemplating on the day that had just passed. It was exactly 12:01 in the morning.

* * *

Once Penchelo left to go to a bar someplace else, Joey and Frank went back up to retrieve what they had come here for.

"In the trunk?" Frank asked as he placed his hands on the chair, getting ready to lift it.

"In the trunk." Joey repeated, placing his hands also, opposite Frank's.

"Wait," Frank interrupted, "we can't leave any evidence." He bent over and paralleled himself with Thompson. Raised his elbow and, with full force, struck it right in Thompson's throat.

Thompson wheezed uncontrollably, gasping for air in his muffled state, coughing out bits of blood that stained the handkerchief around his mouth. Tears flowing from his eyes as his hands tried desperately to be free so it could lay rest on his throbbing throat. But all he could do was sit there and hope that he pass out through the pain. Not knowing that what lies ahead is a far more horrible torture, and wishing that he had just died right there and then.


	9. A Matter Of Trust

Over the next few weeks Joey and Frank, who were up until this point were working their asses off so they could get a piece of the good life, had now finally achieved their goals. After gaining LaSalle's gratitude things had only gone uphill from here.

Although they still had to do the dirty work every once in a while, schooling the upstarts, collecting their cuts, taking care of flaring turf wars, being in LaSalle's good graces certainly makes those jobs a whole lot easier. Plus, since word was spreading that Joey and Frank were unofficially the new right-hand men of LaSalle's mob, along with Mahoney, people suddenly couldn't wait to kiss their asses.

They were treated in the same league as the upper echelons of the crime world in Vanderville, which up until then only consisted of five men: LaSalle, Estrada, Torrence, Mahoney, and Penchelo. With them being listed in that exclusive rank they were getting invited to every single high-class, rich snobs, campaigning politicians, party known in Vanderville, whilst Joey still wasn't too fond of "these little _nuthin'-but-suck-cock_ get-togethers" as he called it.

Drunken stupors and slutty women were all the rage whenever they had LaSalle with them. Basically no one could touch them, if they ever wanted to see the light of day again. Even the bouncers Joey had an altercation with some time ago were smiling up to their ears at him, the one showing his big toothless gap of a smile.

_They were riding 1__st__ class all the way. Everything was going well for them, that is until... _

* * *

"LaSalle, you called for me?" Joey said as soon as he entered the beautiful suite that he was once denied entrance to.

"Yes. I did. I was meaning to talk to you about something." LaSalle replied; sitting comfortably in his expensive bear skinned armchair.

He tilted his seat back as he squashed his cigarette on the ashtray and continued on, "The Yakuza are making an offering. A peace offering."

Joey was silent, his face never shifting for a second.

"I know these were the scumbags who betrayed you 5 years ago. The same people who were with Estrada the night _it_ happened."

LaSalle got up from his seat. Turning to the large glass wall behind him before he went on, "But the Yakuza are giving me... us...you and me. And Frank, too... an offer we just can't refuse. They're giving us their Bay Area docks for only 10 percent of the revenues from the auction house."

He spun around towards Joey, his face beaming with ecstatic joy. "Yes, it sounds suspicious but if we could put that deal in ink, imagine the possibilities."

LaSalle took a moment to visualize his dream while Joey looked on quietly, emotionlessly.

He got back to Joey, "That's why I want you and Mahoney to take care of security. I want you to make the whole deal as airtight as possible. If we can make this deal, Estrada won't be able to EVER show his balls around here anymore. He and his docks can go to hell! We'll run him out of town for good."

LaSalle stood there, staring at Joey with a fixated grin. "So are you with me? It'd be like killing two birds with one stone. We ruin Estrada's means, and after we sign you can take down the Yakuza in any way you want. Those two, they were the bastards that took you down. And it'd be fitting that they go down just the same. Don't you agree?"

Joey stared back, unblinking. "Don't you mean 'we'?"

"Er… w-what?" LaSalle blurts.

"You said that _I_ take them down in any way I want."

LaSalle had gotten riled for some reason, but quickly answered back with his usual tone. "Well, of course… I just meant-- that you'd be the one doing whatever you please with them. I have no problem with what you decide to do. I'll be backing you up all the way."

A silent stare from Joey. And then slowly he nods in agreement, "Ok…Ok, that'll work for me."

LaSalle smiles as he pulls Joey's face toward him and kisses his forehead emphatically. "Thank you, thank you, Joey. You know, you're the greatest thing Vanderville has ever seen. Hahaha."

* * *

'_RRRiiiiiiiiinnnnnggggggg'_

"Yeah, Frank here."

"It's me, Joey."

"Joey, hey. Where are you?"

"I'm here at LaSalle's place. Listen, I need you to meet me someplace. Where are you?"

"I'm here at Kitty's. Just getting a couple of drinks with my lady friends. You know getting laid and stuff. The usual."

"Yeah well, I want you to go to the Shining Star Casino at East Ford Vale. This is the big one right here. The moment we've been waiting for."

Making kissy face at the girl on his side before turning back to the receiver, "Alright Alright, I'm goin'. Meet me at the lobby there, okay."

Joey finished the conversation, stopping at the elevator. He waited for it to open as the cold air of the hallway made him shiver slightly. When the doors finally opened he entered quickly. As he pressed the button to go down, his cell phone rang.

"Yeah, who is this—oh, it's you..."

* * *

"...I should have believed him."

"Huh? Did you say something" Frank asked. He was leaning on the information counter trying to woo the desk clerk. Once he saw Joey coming, he ended his attempts and started walking towards him.

"Ahh—nuthin' Joey said, looking around, "We gotta meet Marvin here somewhere. You didn't see him?"

"No, man. I just got here." Frank shrugged.

"Let's just look around for him." Joey suggested although it seemed Frank already had that in mind.

The casino was a huge place. It had only two floors but each floor was about half the size of a football stadium. They passed the lobby and entered the biggest lounge room they had ever seen.

A large fountain stood atop at the center in white marble that glistened in the many bright yellow hazed lights of the room. At the front of it was a diagram of the whole casino. Joey and Frank went over to check it out. From the map they saw the whole layout of the building. To the north of here was where the actual gambling was held.

Going east would find themselves in the recreational district complete with bowling, arcade, pool, cafes, a gym, movie theaters, musical theaters, ballroom dancing, and even a pharmacy.

The western part was more miscellaneous. It included a basketball arena for the city's basketball team, the Vanderville Huskies. Rooms for reserved private parties and conventions. And also the VIP rooms for the casino's high rollers and regulars.

"You know the mayor tried hard not to let the city's basketball team settle here." Frank informed him, "Now he's swimming with the fishes."

They both chuckled nonchalantly.

He looked at the map again and saw that most of the second floor had the same things as the first floor with regards to their respective areas. The only difference was the casino took the whole two floors as one.

The two continued their search, starting in the casino floor. As they expected the whole place was colossal. Rows upon rows of slot machines and video poker greeted their entrance, tables for blackjacks, roulettes and craps were placed everywhere, and there was even a side that focused on sports betting.

Farther on held a large stage for the musical entertainment, evidenced by a well-known band playing there currently. A dozen dining tables stood in front of the stage for guests who were interested in listening on, and maybe have something to eat.

They found Marvin in one of the roulette tables with some ladies on each arm.

"Hey Joey, Frank, you're finally here." He greeted them, a smug look on his face. "I assume you two already know why you're here."

Frank scratched his head. "Actually… Joey hasn't told me yet."

"Yeah, I didn't tell him cause' I wanted you to tell us both about it." Joey answered, looking at Marvin inquiringly.

Marvin was a bit perplexed but only ignored it and complied with Joey's request.

"Uh, yeah, —a deal's gonna' be taking place here in the casino. It'll be worth millions to us and I'm talking about tens and thousands of millions here. You can just imagine the cut we're gonna' get from this. We'll be the richest men in all of Vanderville."

He stuck out his arms in a wide manner as if to say this would be all theirs. An unbelievably broad smile stood out, one that could match even Jaws.

Marvin finally composed himself and put his arms back around the two women. "But there is a catch… well, sort of. The thing is that our dealers are practically giving it away for nothing."

"How did LaSalle do that?" Frank asked with a hint of amazement in his voice.

"LaSalle didn't do nuthin'." Marvin replied. "The dealers were the ones who offered it first. I know, you could already smell the bullshit from here."

"So what do we do?" Joey butted in, cutting to the chase.

"Well," Marvin took his arms out again but this time ushered the two ladies back to the roulette table so they could talk more privately.

"LaSalle wants the whole building full of his men. He wants the place crawling with his goons on every corner. The plan is he wants…erh—those guys— to get the shit scared out of them so much that they wouldn't dare do anything funny once the deal starts."

"And therefore forcing the Yakuza to go through with the deal whether they were planning something or not." Joey added.

"The Yakuza, huh?" Frank said, intrigued.

"Y-Yeah…right, listen," Changing the touchy subject, he believed to be anyway, catching a glance at Joey's direction, at once.

"In two days we should have every one of our men here and ready. I've already prepared a whole lot of M16s and SMGs at the auction house, so you can get all the weapons you need and for the men, and also bulletproof vests are there as well. Everyone should have one."

Joey surveyed his surroundings then spoke again. "This is a big place I don't think we've got enough of our men to cover it all."

Kind of thinking what a stupid obvious question that was. "Then hire some more dumb muscle to help us. This is an important deal and we've got to make it work no matter what. We clear, gentlemen?"

Marvin nodded to them and proceeded to walk away but then stopped short, craning his neck.

"—and…make sure the men you hire are…trustworthy. You know, just so we don't have any problems."

He finished with an uneasy cough and then returned back to the roulette table where his two ladies were happily watching someone else play.

* * *

"Hey, you're looking snazzy there." Frank mused at Joey who was wearing a finely knit tuxedo.

"What the hell are you talking about? We're practically wearing the same thing." Joey countered while he adjusted his tie in the mirror. "… Damn it."

"Come on, let me do it. You big baby." Frank pulled Joey over and fixed his tie for him. "Can shoot a fly a mile away, but couldn't even learn to tie…"

Frank finishes and takes a step back. "I have to say you're looking like a decent human being this time." Frank said coupled by a laugh as he analyzed Joey again. "Not like those other parties. I remember one time when you went to a masquerade ball and you were wearing flip flops—"

"Yeah, okay just shut up and let's go. I look like the fucking Penguin!" Joey snapped.

"Act like him too." Frank remarks behind his back.

They reached the casino 30 minutes later, barely beating the Friday night traffic. Already the place was packed full of guards roaming about. All of them dressed in black clothing. It made the scene look as if the president was coming and they were the secret service.

Upon reaching the entrance way, they found two men trying to get inside but were being denied entry.

"Come on, you bloody gits. Let us in. We're very important people here, ya know." One of them spoke. His crooked nose flaring up crossly.

"Yeah, we're dishtink—, instinc—, digstingwisheed persons we are. We know Joey Giovanni. We're drinking buddies, used to take swigs by the buckets we did. Ain't that right, me drinking buddy?" The other, tall and burly, barged in.

"O' course it is. Wasn't a day we didn't be doing the ol' 1-2-3, heh heh. I'm drunk as hell right now." His lanky partner replied, belching loudly as he finished. The foul stench of his breath made the guard wince. Joey and Frank leisurely walked closer to them.

"I see you two actually made it. You actually got yer asses up from your mom's basement." Joey said with as much loathing that he could possibly muster. And then he smirked.

"Course we did, wouldn't miss it for the world," The skinny one said, rubbing his hands together. "Free food."

"Couldn't you two have dressed a little better?" Joey added, looking at their raggedy clothes.

"Formalities, formalities…are we heading in or not?" he replied again.

Joey sighed. "Okay…here's the keys, let's go. They're with me—unfortunately."

All four of them entered the casino and marched straight to the gambling room. As soon as the door opened Marvin was fretfully waiting at the front of it.

"Oh, Thank God! You're finally here! I can't believe you just showed up now." Marvin cried out.

"Why? The deal doesn't start until an hour." Frank argued.

"I know that, but I want everything to be in order. And that includes you two helping me with security…hey, who are those two?" Marvin exclaimed.

"'Ello there, mate. The name's Philip. And this big tub of lard bushwanker right here is Gibs." The man named Philip introduced themselves.

"And why are they here?" Marvin asked, looking at the other two with irritation.

"They're our personal men. You know, guys who got your back. You gotta have one if you're an important guy. Where's yours?" Joey replied, adjusting his tux smugly.

"Oh, uh…" Marvin turned his head as if he was looking for something, "then I guess I'll go with you guys. Yeah, I didn't…uh, guess I forgot about that."

"Listen, mate" Philip said firmly, "Do you know where the buffet is? I'm starving."

"…Y-Yeah, they're over there." Marvin pointed up front. The two blokes quickly moved on leaving the other three behind. "You sure can pick em'."

"Ah, Joey, Frank." Just then LaSalle had appeared to them, holding a glass of champagne and was clearly turning pink.

"I see you're enjoying yourself in this occasion." Joey greeted him.

"And why not?" LaSalle replied. "We're about to become very rich men. All four of us standing right here, the most filthy stinking rich men in all of Vanderville."

"Will Torrence and Estrada be here, too?" Frank asked, abruptly ending his blissful speech.

"Torrence? That man never comes out of wherever piece of shithole he lives in. But of course I invited Estrada to be here. It wouldn't be complete without him here, seeing his face in agony when he realizes his precious docks will be nothing more than a garbage dump."

LaSalle cackled noisily and downed his glass emphatically, throwing it over his head after he did so. He proceeded to leave them in favor of the sports betting section.

Marvin started again. "Come on, now. We've got to check the areas to see if there's anyone making trouble. We can't let it get out of hand especially when the deal starts. And it _is_ going to be."

He headed out of the room while Joey ushered Philip and Gibs to follow them, bringing along heaps of food on their hands. "Comin' governor. Gibs, don't take the whole plate you brainless twit. Save some for me why don't cha."

The five men roamed around the rest of the casino. They started in the eastern section, inspecting for anything unusual but mostly browsing the stores section for their goods. Then they reached the western part where it was quieter. There weren't many people here, only those with VIP privileges since there was no game tonight and no conventions held either.

Once they cleared the first floor they marched up the second floor to check in on things there. They were again in the recreational district when Marvin glanced at his watch.

"10 minutes till eight. We'd better go back—"

'_BOOOOOOOOOOOOOM' _

"—what the hell was that?!"

All of them jogged rapidly out to the outside balcony. Their eyes stared in disbelief as a Boeing 727 was resting only meters away from them, leaving a path of destruction a quarter of a mile long.

"What in fuck's name is going on here?" Marvin exclaimed. His cell phone suddenly rang.

"Boss, the Yakuza are here. LaSalle wants you to get down here right now. I think they were startled by the crash." The caller said.

"Goddamn it!" Marvin screamed. "I'll be there, just—just do whatever it takes to keep them still."

While Marvin was busily talking, Philip had shifted closer to Gibs and whispered close to him. "I think we'd better make our move or else those blokes be skedaddling right out of here."

"—alright just give LaSalle some aspirin and lots of water. Make him get his head clear before he meets them. I'm coming down. Christ, that damn idiot…"

Marvin clicked his phone off and stared at Joey and Frank. "You two check the mess down there and see who's behind it. I'm going to the casino to check on the boss. Call me if anything happens."

He turned and dashed towards the balcony entrance. But Philip had blocked his way.

"I don't think that will be necessary anymore, governor." Philip snapped at him, showing his grimy yellow teeth.

Marvin gaped at him with a furious expression. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? GET OUT OF—u-u-uh…"

Gibs followed his partner's movement and planted himself in front of Marvin's way. He crossed his arms and showed a cold and menacing look towards Marvin.

"…shit. You two dickheads…" Marvin began to shuffle his feet in the other way. "Joey! Frank!—ugh."

Marvin's body fell to the floor. Blood trickled down from his skull as his expressionless eyes turned pale white.

* * *

"Sir, we just found out that there was a gunshot heard from the second floor. But the guards there say they've already handled it…they said."

"So what do you want me to do?! I can't go there myself. I already have problems here with Mr. Drunkard over there and what's with that fucking plane outside? —and where the hell is Marvin?!…YOU!"

"Erm, wha'd ye want there, mate?"

"You were with Mahoney. Where is he?"

"Uh, guess he still up there finishing with that bloody incident. Told us to go down here and tell ya that." Philip answered him.

"And where's the other two? Joey and Frank?"

"They went outside to check on that other bloody ruckus. That Mahoney guy also said that you better start the deal less anything else happens."

The man pauses. He doesn't really want to believe what this stranger had said, but he didn't have a choice.

"…sigh…okay. See if LaSalle's got his senses back. We're starting this now."

* * *

'_CLICK' _

"You're sure you can hit him from this far? I mean we're up on the 2nd floor here and you're aiming with what, a revolver."

"I've got to, I promised myself… promised the devil. I can't back out now.

"Besides, have you forgotten…who…you're…talking…to…

………there. _BANG. _

* * *

"OH MY—GODDAM IT!!! LASALLE! Somebody get an ambulance! Damn it who shot him! Where is he, GODDAM IT?!

Everyone starts to panic. All the civilian guests are running all over. The guards frantically turning but could barely distinguish one from the other, let alone a gunman.

"There he is! The little prat's running towards the fire exit!"

At once, a ringing sound filled the whole room followed by the sprinklers setting off. LaSalle's men hurriedly followed the fugitive who had escaped from the fire exit. In mere seconds, a whirring noise occurred and then a loud screeching of tires. Meanwhile, LaSalle's body sat motionless on the floor. Dozens and dozens of guards staring down at the bullet stricken corpse, flabbergasted. None of them could do anything to save him… as if there was still a chance.

* * *

The night ended in total chaos for the Shining Star Casino. The biggest headline tonight was about to reach the citizens of Vanderville in mere hours. But there was a bigger headline that overshadowed it, although the media downplayed it. Tomorrow the entire city of Vanderville will hear the news that the most powerful mob boss, Pantiliano LaSalle, was assassinated in what they would say an everyday crime related issue. Yet for those who really knew, it meant the fall of an old and corrupted dynasty. And the rebirth of another one.


	10. Call Waiting

Two men sat on the rugged carpeted floor, their backs against the balcony edge. They were in a lone balcony, already shut out and secluded from the rest of its glamorous residence. It had been that way ever since the stage was built.

The balcony, three of them in total, unfortunately, rested behind the then newly constructed theater and so it was deemed unnecessary to maintain the certain area anymore. However, on this day Joey and Frank considered it an utmost necessity to use this forgotten balcony once more.

The two silently listened to the screams and shouts of people below them. Joey was still clutching the magnum revolver he used to accomplish his mission. A mission that spanned the length of time yet had only come to fruition not long ago…

* * *

- **Chapter 5**

"Hey, Marvin. We got the guns; we'll be there in about an hour... hello?" Joey called.

"... ...Oh, right the guns. Well, bring them here, got that?" Marvin said.

"What's up with that guy?" Joey frowned.

He put the cell phone back in his pocket and said to Frank: "Drive me home, Jeeves."

"Very funny." Frank said.

Just then, the cell phone rang.

"Yeah, who is this?" Joey answered.

"Mr. Giovanni," the caller said. "I believe we have some information that might interest you...a lot."

"Oh, yeah?" Joey retorted. "Who is this, anyway?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that but—"

"—sorry, but I don't just answer to no one." He was about to hang up.

"Wait!" The caller said, hurriedly. "Mr. Giovanni, what if I can tell you what really happened on that night. The night when they betrayed you."

Joey's thoughts suddenly went blank. For a few seconds he couldn't utter anything discernable. His whole mind was suspended in a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

"Wha-What did you say—no, you're…you're just fucking with me, aren't you?" Joey responded.

"I'm not fucking with you, Mr. Giovanni. I really do know." The caller replied calmly, he sounded more complacent now that the conversation was steering his way.

"How do you even know?" Joey asked so fast it was like he already knew what the man was going to say before that.

"I can't tell you that, either. You'll just have to trust me." The caller gave Joey a brief moment then continued. "Of course, if you don't want to believe what I have to say, then this conversation is no longer needed."

"Okay, okay." Joey conceded, he felt irritated about this mystery man's demands but couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. Even how ludicrous it was. "So, what are you gonna tell me?"

"First off," The caller said, "The Yakuza had already planned on killing you beforehand and LaSalle had known about it."

Joey was silent as the caller went on. "However, LaSalle only knew about this just a few hours before the tradeoff. A lowly snitch that got wind of the Yakuza's plan came to LaSalle and informed him about it."

"That man was Marvin Mahoney; he told LaSalle this information in exchange for power when he would become the new boss. LaSalle realized that, too. With you gone, he'll get all the power."

"And that's why there was no backup." Joey spoke, probably more to himself. Now he realized that Estrada was telling the truth…but maybe not yet.

Joey focused his attention again to the caller. "So what if I say I do kind of believe you? But you still don't have proof to back it all up."

"You're right. I don't have anything to prove it." The caller agreed but there was no trace of worry in his words. "But then I'm not the one who's going to show you."

"Huh?! Then how am I gonna believe all this shit you're saying?" Joey wondered aloud.

"It's simple. You're going to find out from them." The caller revealed. "And I'm going to help you do that."

Joey was a little perplexed and said nothing.

"All I want is your full cooperation." The caller said, sounding stern in his demand.

Joey contemplated for a second. He wasn't thrilled at the idea of following orders from a stranger, and yet something told him it was the best chance, and probably the only chance, he had in finding out the truth.

"Alright, you've got my cooperation." Joey finally said. "Now what do I have to do?"

"Very good, Mr. Giovanni." The caller mused triumphantly. "Now, the first thing you need to do is to create good ties with LaSalle, and I have the information that will help you."

"I'm listening." Joey adjusted himself in his seat and listened intently.

"I want you to tell Mahoney about a guy named Bernard Thompson."

"Thompson?" Joey repeated.

"Yes. He's an African American, 6 foot 2, probably 195 pounds. He's the guy who killed LaSalle's son."

Joey was beginning to understand where this was going. "So you want us to use him as leverage to get to LaSalle. I assume you'll tell me where he is."

"Naturally, he's staying at a house in Oakfield Heights, no. 9. I'm sure you'll have no problem getting him."

"Okay, fine. But how can you be sure that Mahoney will bite?"

"Because, Mahoney knows more than he's letting out to LaSalle. For starters, he's the one who hired Thompson. I think you already know what I'm implying here."

Joey could sense the man from the other line was cracking a smile as he said that, sort of like a spider watching his prey squirm pitifully in his web.

The stranger continued. "All you have to do is rub it in and he'll crack like an egg."

Joey still wasn't sold on the idea, but he had to admit that it was pretty impressive. "It looks like you've got everything planned. Then what?"

"Once you're a part of LaSalle's mob, you've got to keep your composure. Don't ask about what happened in the past, LaSalle will try to make up an explanation and you have to stick with it.

"I won't promise you that he'll slip up and tell you exactly what you want to know. It's up to you to decide where his loyalties really were."

Joey was speechless. He had it. Everything that he was hoping for, hoping to find out. And he still couldn't let himself believe that a virtual stranger was giving him all this out of the blue.

"Until then, from time to time you have to call me and disclose everything that has transpired. I'll give you my number." The caller finished.

"But how can you even know all this?" Joey insisted yet again. Everything the man said felt more like a scripted play than anything else. He just couldn't fathom the idea that this man had all the answers.

"Mr. Giovanni," The caller said, he sounded like a father lecturing his own child. "If there's one thing I know about man, it's that we all have our flaws. But what you learn from your own flaws, you realize that they _can_ be corrected. I am simply correcting mine…and yours."

Frank stopped the van next to the sidewalk; they had already reached their destination. A large building stood beside from where they parked, it was a beacon of exuberance that contrasted the rest of its silent district.

The caller broke in. "Remember what I have told you, Mr. Giovanni, and everything will be for the best. Oh, one more thing. Have you talked to Mahoney yet?"

"Uh, yeah. Before you called." Joey replied.

"Then I'm pretty sure he was surprised that you completed the task, he couldn't kill two birds with one stone." The caller laughed. "Keep in touch."

The mysterious caller spoke his final words but Joey tried to get one last word in.

"W-Wait! I've got one more thing to ask. Are you…are you that _Tony_?"

"………………Beep."

The line was dead, Joey didn't get an answer. He put the cell phone back and turned to Frank, he was looking back at him.

"So… who was that?" Frank inquired, apparently fed up that he was left out of everything.

Joey took a deep sigh. "Let's get something to eat first… this might take a while."

* * *

"—Joey…Joey!"

"Huh—Wha?"

"Joey! I said the cops are here."

"Wha-Where?" Joey said, becoming blatantly alert.

"Down there." Frank pointed, leaning his head in the direction of the balcony's barrier.

With his head finally clear, Joey was able to hear the noises coming from below. It had significantly died down from before. The chaotic screams now just normal murmurs of a public place.

Joey didn't feel the need to check on them anymore. As far as he was concerned this job was finished. Since day one, everything they were told to do, and what would happen after that, had become an inexplicable success. Nothing seemed to stray from their predestined path.

With all that's happened, Joey couldn't care less if the police caught them. What were they going to do? In this part of the city the police answered to LaSalle, and with him and Mahoney gone they were unofficially the guys running this whole operation.

But, Joey wasn't planning on taking over just yet...

* * *

- **Chapter 9**

"Yeah, who is this— oh it's you..."

"Mr. Giovanni, I trust your meeting with LaSalle is over." A smooth and sophisticated voice answered him back. It was the same mysterious man that called before.

"Yeah," Joey said bluntly, "He said the Yakuza are giving a peace offering or some shit like that."

"Typical of LaSalle, covering the truth like that." The caller said. "He says it like he's doing you a favor but he's not fooling anyone."

"Alright," Joey said, getting straight to the point. "You said the Yakuza are only decoys. So I'm guessing this is the part where we strike down LaSalle and his crew."

"Exactly. I'm sure LaSalle gave you an important job."

"He told me I was head of security with Marvin."

"Even better." The caller took a moment to think then came back. "It'll be easier for you to take him out. Take him out in any way just as long as it doesn't interfere with LaSalle's."

"Well, how do I take care of LaSalle?"

"You can't kill him directly, there'll be too many guards watching. And LaSalle probably doesn't even want you near that place, possibly why he gave you this task so you don't do anything to any of the Yakuza."

"He shouldn't have worried about that. I'll take them out later." Joey remarked aloofly.

"I'm sure you will. To the point, Mr. Giovanni, I want you to assassinate him without anyone seeing you do it. There should be no eye witnesses. I'm sure you can easily accomplish that with your skills."

"I got it. Do it and do it cleanly."

"Very good. One more thing, Philip and Gibs will be waiting for you in the Casino when the deal begins. I've already had them scout the building so they'll be helpful to you. Alright, any questions?"

"Yeah," Joey replied in a rather perturbed way. "Who the hell are Philip and Gibs?"

You don't know them? I would have thought you had gotten acquainted with them when they kidnapped you."

"Oh, so you're talking about those two shitheads." Joey said, slightly annoyed now. "I guess I should act '_nice_' to them now, huh?"

"A wise choice, Mr. Giovanni. Let's save the animosity for later, when we've completed the plan."

Joey was about to hang up but the caller wasn't finished.

"Wait. Mr. Giovanni, I just want to add, you should give Estrada his dues. The man worshipped you for so long. Maybe it's time you forgave him for something that wasn't his fault. I think you know what I mean." The caller added before finishing.

* * *

"Joey, I think maybe we should go." Frank proclaimed.

Joey, dazed again coming out from another of his flashbacks, turned to Frank who was peeking discreetly at the people below.

"The cops don't seem to be going anywhere real soon." Frank continued. "No use hanging out here anymore."

Joey agreed with him. It had already been two hours of waiting for them, gruelingly camped out in this enclosed space. He got up, dusted himself a bit, and signaled Frank with a nod. Frank followed suit, and both of them exited the balcony.

They came out to a barely lit hallway that was evident no one had come here for quite some time. Only one pair of fluorescent lights was still functioning out of the dozens placed on each side of the wall.

Although all of them had one thing in common, much like everything else here, covered in dust and filth. Parts of the ceiling had fallen off and were slowly being digested by colonies of termites on the ground. The wallpapers were peeling off halfway, replacing the naked portion with thick, murky grime.

Joey and Frank started to trot their way out of the hallway, unflinching at this unearthly sight. As they strode on, Frank decided to tell Joey what had been on his mind all this time. It seemed the topic had bothered him for a while now, and he wanted Joey to clarify something he had deduced for himself.

"Hey, I've been thinking," Frank started slowly, "so what happens now? I mean, do we…uh…a-are we gonna be running the…"

Joey stopped him right there. He knew where this was going and he had been expecting it.

"Yeah, I know what you're saying. And no. We can't take over LaSalle's mob." Joey said up-front.

Frank was taken aback and began to protest. "W-What? Come on, we're the only ones left here. If no one leads the mob then everyone under us will just split up and make their own turf. You know that's the last thing we need right now, more trouble."

"You're right, that _is_ the last thing we need" Joey reiterated. "More trouble."

They reached the double doors at the end of the hallway. One of its doors was already open from whence they came in. The heavily rusted door had proven to be a task in itself alone, and upon opening it opted not to close it again anymore.

Once out of the hallway, they were suddenly facing what appeared to be a dead end. A wooden wall covered the extent of the whole room. But on closer inspection it was actually only wooden planks malls used to cover stores under construction or, in this case, closed down.

Joey moved one of the planks aside and created a small opening for them to slip through. Now they were back on the 2nd floor of the Eastern district. Breathing in the fresh air and dusting themselves once more, they surveyed the vicinity for any suspicious signs.

The black suited men they hired were already gone, probably realizing there was nothing left to guard. There were also less people walking by since most of the stores were closing at this hour. No one seemed to care or even noticed that they came out of an off-limits area. The two continued on walking casually towards the building's exit, and with it resumed their conversation.

Joey looked at Frank, who was anxiously waiting for his explanation, it was clear that he was still pissed with Joey's resolution.

"Look, Frank." Joey started, trying to reason with him. "Think about it, were still just a couple of new faces here. People'll start suspecting something's not right."

Frank didn't say anything.

Joey went on. "We can't risk everything here, after we've gotten this far already. This isn't the right time yet, you just have to wait a little more."

Joey wasn't sure if Frank would relate with him. But then Frank heaved out a long sigh and showed a slight grin.

"I guess you have a point." Frank conceded. "You can't rush these things. We're already lucky enough to be in this position."

They stopped in front of a door with a sign that read: 'Personnel only'. Joey rummaged something from his pocket and found what he was looking for, a key. He put the key in the doorknob and instantly a click was heard, they entered afterwards.

A flight of stairs greeted them from inside. They descended down the steps and reached the supply room of the whole casino where they moved briskly amid the puzzled stares coming from the employees. Whilst they were walking, Frank still had one more question that he wanted to ask Joey.

"Hey, Joey. You didn't tell me yet, what happens to the mob? We can't just leave it alone."

"I know, I've been thinking about that." Joey said. "The safest bet here is to let one of the other two remaining mob bosses take over. That's the only way LaSalle's mob can stay intact and still have control over them."

"Right, that makes sense." Frank agreed. "But who do we choose? Estrada or Torrence?"

Joey gave him a sarcastic stare. "I think we both know who's the better choice here."

Frank chuckled and they moved on to the parking lot where two familiar faces could be seen.

"Ey', where in the bloody hell were you? I've been waiting ere' all night while all of you's been wanking off in a bush somewhere." Philip shouted in annoyance.

"We've been hiding in that balcony for hours on end. Give us some slack." Frank countered. "You're not the only one who had it bad, and from the looks of it those beer bottles sure made your wait a hell of a lot easier."

"Wha'd ya talkin' bout? I ain't been drinking any, hic, booze… and WILL you please hold still! The four of ya'll are making me dizzy."

Frank just shook his head while Joey began to speak. "Where's Gibs?"

"Who, oh, you mean that baboon-for-brains Gibs. Yeah he's here. Just arrived, actually." Philip professed.

Gibs came rounding out of the corner, holding two dozen six-packs of beer on his arms. Once he saw Joey and Frank, he set down the beer cans and took out a set of keys, handing it to Joey.

"Here, hiccup." Gibs said, staggering. He also appeared to be drunk but not as much as his partner.

"What took you so long? We parked the car only inches away from the exit. Nobody could have been fast enough to follow you." Joey asked him.

"Urp, y-yeah, but I had to drop off some guy." Gibs explained.

Joey and Frank both had confused looks on their faces as they stared at Gibs.

But he only shook them off. "Uh, never mind."

Now Philip started to intervene. "Well, mates. I guess it be time for us to be skedaddling on our separate ways."

Gibs put the beer cans back on his arms.

"We'll be seeing ya real soon. Don't be a faggot now, ya hear." Philip said as he and Gibs left them.

Joey and Frank marched to their car a few paces away. Joey reached the driver's seat but Frank cut him off and said that he wanted to drive. Seeing no harm in that, Joey gave him the keys and switched to the passenger's side.

"Okay, just wake me up when we get there." Joey said, exhausted.

They drove on for a while, until Joey began to notice something.

"…hey, wait a minute. This ain't the way to your apartment."

"Yeah, I know. We're going to our new apartment." Frank disclosed to him.

"And where is that?" Joey asked, exasperated. He suspected this wasn't going to end in a good way.

"To LaSalle's penthouse, of course." Frank said in an excited tone, grinning like a kid looking at his first porno mag.

" God, Frank what did I just tell you?!"

"Awww, come on. Just the penthouse, Joey. No one's living there anyway."

"Okay, that's it! Move over, I'm driving. Come on, gimme the wheel!"

"H-Hey, man! You can't just—hey, look we're gonna crash into that truck! Get back to your seat!"

"I hope that truck hits your side of the car first…"


	11. A Difficult Decision

"_Hello and good evening. This is Nicollette Gervais with the channel 5 news. Last night, on the 13th of April, well known entrepreneur and alleged mob boss, Pantiliano LaSalle, aged 65, was shot dead within the premises of the Shining Star Casino. The slaying happened at exactly 8:05 pm in the northern district of the casino where the gambling section is located. _

"_Witnesses say the murderer escaped through the fire exit and drove away in a dark grey ZR-350 vehicle. Unfortunately, no one was able to clearly identify the murderer's face. The only details known at this point is that the murderer was a male. He is presumed to be bald, standing at 6 foot 3 with a fairly bulky stature. He was seen wearing a tattered beige duffle coat and brown cargo pants._

"_Mr. LaSalle was highly regarded as one of the most powerful men in the city. Infamous for his various dealings, he owned a number of thriving businesses including the Greenwood Golf Course, the Kitty Kat Nightclub, and part owner of the Vanderville Huskies._

"_He was also notorious for his constant brushes with the law. Apart from his supposed contacts with the mob, LaSalle was also arrested numerous times including multiple counts of DUI, charged but acquitted of extortion, bribery, 2 counts of assault, fraud, embezzlement, and tax evasion._

"_It wasn't until in 2000 when he's association with the mob escalated into new heights. LaSalle had then formed a partnership with wealthy chain store mogul Regis McFarley in order to expand their growing businesses. Only a few weeks after their merger, McFarley was gunned down inside his house along with his wife and two children. _

"_Without a rightful heir to McFarley industries, LaSalle became its sole proprietor, sparking outrage from McFarley's relatives with outcries of foul play involved. Further investigations revealed that LaSalle had an ongoing row with McFarley in the days leading up to the murder. Sources indicated that LaSalle had argued over a legal bind proclaiming custody of their joint venture over to the other instead of passing ownership rights to another family member._

"_More unsettling news surfaced when McFarley's documents were found to have been hastily changed only 2 nights before, leading to allegations of forgery. A few weeks later, police had captured one of the suspected assailants, Antonio Borelli, an alleged hit man for the mob and a known associate of LaSalle._

"_Borelli was supposed to go on trial soon after but court proceedings came to a halt when LaSalle suffered a mild stroke a day before trial started. He was then detained in prison where he would never be seen alive again. Shortly thereafter, Borelli was found stabbed to death in his own cell which he was the only occupant. Unconfirmed reports said that on the night before his death Borelli was asking for his lawyer saying that he was ready to confess about McFarley's murder. _

"_LaSalle's case was then unexpectedly thrown out after the judge cited insufficient evidence against the accused. Yet another controversy emerged after it was found that the same judge had a gambling debt with a casino owned by LaSalle. However, the Vanderville High Council sustained with the decision, deeming the complaint without warrant. _

"_Sources indicate that there had seemed to be some sort of meeting taking place last night at the casino. Several witnesses have noted a number of dark-suited men roaming around the building as early as three in the afternoon. Another person was also found dead on the second floor; a 47-year-old Marvin Mahoney. It is believed that his death is connected as well to LaSalle's. In other news…"_

* * *

Frank turned off the television, and then proceeded to put his feet on the sofa. His head had been aching ever since he woke up, he couldn't even remember what time he had turned on the TV. Not a minute had passed when the doorbell came banging on his eardrums.

"Shit, man!" Frank groaned.

He got back up again and headed for the door. The bell rung twice more, the sound seemed to increase in tenfold now.

"Alright, alright already." Frank hastened to the door as much as he could. He unlocked the hinge and opened it to find Joey leaning casually beside the door frame.

"You're up early." Frank mused at him.

Joey raised his eyebrow at Frank. "I'm always up early, you just woke up late."

Frank turned to face the wall clock above the TV. 10:55AM.

"Ah shit, what happened to me last night?" Frank groaned, massaging his forehead.

"You got wasted, that's what happened to you." Joey answered as he slid inside past Frank. "I shouldn't have let you talk me into that bar, I told you I didn't drink."

Frank slouched back in the couch as he began to rack his brain. "Oh yeah…yeah we did go to a bar. And-And I, uh, I remember some hot girl came on to me."

"She was a prostitute," Joey said sarcastically, "and you brought her home."

"Yeah? Don't remember." Frank brooded in an uncaring way.

"Of course you didn't. You were already passed out while she was blowing you."

Frank made an indifferent laugh, simply nodding back but then turned to Joey again with a look of suppressed bewilderment. "Uh…then, why…"

"Well, I had the girl do something for me" Joey enlightened him, "I was gonna pay her a 100 bucks just to give head to an unconscious bastard."

"I didn't know you cared." Frank mumbled cheekily. He started to lie on the sofa again but Joey pulled him back up.

"Hey, Hey, Hey. Get up, we gotta get going."

"Going? Go where?" Frank responded, whining like a little kid.

"We gotta go meet Estrada. Give him a warm welcome with his new job." Joey reasoned out as he went back to the door. "I already informed him about his new job."

"Are you shitting me? Frank exclaimed. "You expect me to go out there—with what's happening now?!"

"Come on, already." Joey only said, disappearing from view.

Frank moaned like a wounded animal, beating his hand on the sofa, and then begrudgingly followed Joey out.

Things had drastically changed in Vanderville since LaSalle's unexpected demise. A few hours after, the whole city (or at least the crime community) was in an uproar. Fires broke out here and there; women and children ran screaming, desperately seeking shelter; gunshots heard time and time again, cutting through the stale ridden smell of gunpowder wafting in the air.

Bodies lay sprawled on the ground where they were once living breathing human beings, now just another casualty of another senseless struggle. Joey despised this chaos all his life. He had done so much in trying to keep this wretched society of thugs and lowlifes under one rule, his rule. It might have not been the perfect rule, but it was a rule that not only he, but the whole of Vanderville had needed.

They decided to use public transportation on the way so as not to attract unwanted attention seeing as the ZR-350 was marked; and also Joey didn't want bullet holes ruining the new paint job.

The pair trudged the streets of Sta. Clara, 2 blocks from the train station, wearing matching trench coats, dark sunglasses, and caps over their usual clothes. They had to be indiscernible to anyone as was possible, and that meant forcing themselves to wear this kind of clothing on a 108 degree weather.

"Man, I'm like a freaking burrito." Frank groaned, "A burrito with a fucking headache."

"Hey, just be grateful no one's shooting at us." Joey told him. Frank became silent for a moment.

"…Estrada, huh?" He started again, becoming serious this time but still showing that grimace on him.

"Yeah." Joey breathed out solemnly. His eyes seemed to go blank quite suddenly, meshed in deep contemplation.

Joey knew it was still hard for Frank to accept it. He always figured Frank was a head-on type of guy the way he was. A guy who wouldn't care about the suspicions of what other people might think as long as he reaches his goal. And yet it wasn't only Frank that had those thoughts, Joey was beginning to feel the same.

It wasn't because Joey felt the need to regain that power he once had. God knows that was far from it. He believed that Frank had become more than an asset to him, someone that he didn't have for a long time now, a real friend.

To him, it didn't feel right to have the last say on this. It was true that without him Frank wouldn't be here in this position, but it could as well been said of him. They had both come this far because of each other, and from the very beginning Joey realized that they already had different intentions. He just didn't think that he would be the one obstructing Frank from his goal.

All this came from a mistake he made about Estrada. Estrada who had always been loyal to him at that time, something that he took for granted now. Back then, he was an arrogant fool, someone who couldn't discern a friend from a foe. To him they were all pawns that would no sooner stab him in the back than do his bidding. There was no one to trust, no one to confide to; all there was to think of was his own.

But maybe, if he hadn't been so warped into this kind of selfish notion, maybe he could have gotten real loyalty out of his men…

"…_damn it! …where's our backup…what's happened to Estrada…this was all a fucking set-up …no …where's LaSalle?!"_

…maybe he wouldn't have been alone in that warehouse on that fateful night…

"_It's over, Giovanni… give it up… no one's going to save you …you're no longer the one running things around here anymore…"_

…and maybe he wouldn't have jumped off that cliff in desperation, and spending the last 5 years incapacitated from everything…

"…_why do you care?! This isn't your city …hurry it up, you tattoed freak _..._huh? We don't take orders from you _..._an errand boy_ ..._You fucking--!_... ..._boss! …h-he just jumped! …WHAT?! …damn it, this place is falling apart! …fuck! I'm outta here…"_

Those thoughts had crossed his mind time and time again, between now and ever since that revelation. Joey didn't really owe Estrada anything, yet somehow he felt grateful to him, like he had been there all this time, while he was gone, trying to keep the peace. Trying to carry on what Joey had believed in.

It was this that made Joey once again affirm his decision. Estrada had always been the right man for the job, even more so than he ever was. For once, he would be following orders that had a purpose, and not just for personal gain like so many others before him. He was happy to just sit back and let the others do the thinking for him, something he had longed for always.

Now Joey had that chance, and if it meant delaying his partner's rise to power for only a bit, he would take it. It was selfish, he knew that. Some things never change. But unlike back then, Joey figured there was nothing to lose anymore…or maybe he was wrong.

"—hey…so why'd you pick Estrada, we could' a run this place by ourselves." Frank mused tersely as they walked on the train's platform.

Joey chuckled, "…you wouldn't understand. Some things you can only learn from experience."

"Experience?" Frank repeated, half scratching, half rubbing his noggin from the headache. "You've got lots of that. What are you now, forty-seven?"

"I'm only thirty-six, you idiot!" Joey fired back. The train accelerated into motion, and off they went, onto more trouble.

* * *

ah finally I've finished chapter 11. Right now I'm trying to focus more on Joey's view on things. He is of course the main character of my fic, its high time for things to unveil here. oh and what Joey had before that he didn't want to lose was his own life, you know cause he cared for no one else but him so it was only natural to watch out for no.1 (thought that might have been a confusing thing); the next chapter might unveil the reason why he doesn't think so now. As always thanks for those who took the time to read it.


	12. Time To Move

The same old encrusted doors stood open once more; inhaling into it's own secluded space the cold, breezing air resonating throughout the corridor ahead. The hallway shined brightly in all its glory. Decorated with the most extravagant and expensive materials money can afford. It signified a tone of superiority. As if it sought to project a belief that no inch of this wonderful edifice should be given no lesser treatment, no matter the circumstance.

_Has it always been like this?_ Joey wondered. Was this small, narrow and quite honestly, negligible hallway always been lavished so excessively.

He couldn't see himself being like that, even back then. No, he remembered it was LaSalle who was always the one in charge off all these things. This building, the dealings, the hired men; everything was under his supervision. Now Joey began to ponder whether all of it was already a vexing premonition that he was too foolish to notice.

"Boy, was I a dumbshit."

"Huh, you say sumthin'?" Frank turned to him, an eye wincing from the throbbing pain in his head, which one couldn't quite reach.

"I said you're a dumbshit." Joey said swiftly. He opened the door to the secretary's room.

"Good morning, Mr. Giovanni. Mr. Estrada has been waiting for you. Coffee?" The shorthaired brunette smiled as she paused from her computer for that brief moment of dialogue.

Joey politely declined, like he always did, and walked further on. Frank was a couple of steps back taking his time. He gave a solicitous wink at the secretary as he passed her. She didn't have a pleasant greeting for him though.

"Frankie, you stupid jerk!" She barked at him, "You said you were gonna call last night and we'd go out to dinner!"

"H-Huh…b-but—ye-yeah, I-I did—but-but, Layla, you see there was this party a-an—" Frank stuttered foolishly, taking a step back.

"—And then I heard about this party LaSalle was going to—God, bless his soul, although that ass never paid me the last time I went down on him, oh, but still, bless his soul—anyway, I thought you'd at least invite me to go there since you probably had a special pass or something, although I wasn't entirely sure that you had one either—b-but then you didn't even show up. Y-You were just a big, dumb, jerk! Now what do you have to say for yourself?!"

Layla finished red-faced, waiting for a response. Frank seemed like he was still trying to comprehend the barrage he just got.

"…Eh, heh heh. Uh-Uhm, how about I treat you to lunch later?" It was the only thing Frank could come up with. Joey's eyes rolled over. _What a comeback._

Layla's eyes glowered at Frank still, accompanied by her dead silence. But then she turned her back on him and folded her arms.

"Hmph! I'll…think about it." She said. The voice sounded strict yet clearly a forgiving one.

She went back to her seat while Frank hurriedly made his way through the door. He was flushing her a pathetic "I messed up" grin all the way out the door but her sight was unusually focused on the computer screen.

"Geez, women. Always bitching about something." Frank said after he had ascertained that the door was closed. He started to rub his forehead again.

"Yeah…I get used to it." Joey remarked, staring at Frank.

"Yeah, they're— wai— hey—!"

"Ah, you slackers finally got your asses moving!" A gangling laugh bellowed around the room as Penchelo stood up from the plush sofa to greet the two.

He scratched on his dark, scruffy, unkempt moustache then flicked his cigar a touch. The normally red-suited Penchelo seemed to have been missing his jacket. In place was a bulletproof vest residing over his white, albeit stained, undershirt.

"But seriously, I wanna congratulate our two new partners." Penchelo held out his hand, Joey shook it. "You two should probably be thrilled seeing as we took you in as our partners. Don't worry, we can forget about your past ties with LaSalle. You probably had something to do with him croaking anyway, am I right?"

Penchelo gave Joey a rough nudge and then laughed some more. Even with Frank's grimacing face, it appeared that something else was pissing him off.

"W-Wait, wait. What'd you mean 'we'?" Frank spoke sharply. He was still rubbing on his forehead like he was trying to push back the pain that seemed relentless. Though his headache wasn't disguising the apparent bitterness that began to creep over him.

"_We took you in?!" _he repeated, his voice becoming displeasingly aggravated.

"Easy, Frank." Joey intervened, trying to calm him down. Apparently Frank was still harboring a grudge with this situation he had to contend with. Joey began to worry if they would be able to work together as things were.

"Mr. Arsint, please don't take Penchelo's words too personally. He does not intentionally mean to be rude."

A soft voice spoke in front of them. The grizzled visage of Estrada stood all the while, observing them in his own serene manner. His face showed a genuinely warm smile, which a person wasn't supposed to have when their profession consisted of acts that were considered unlawful, and yet this man had a strange demeanor that could have been mistaken for someone's kind, old grandfather.

Estrada shifted towards them. Joey noticed that he was limping and using a cane, something they didn't see before. Penchelo saw his expression.

"Oh that… happened in a gunfight, some guys broke off a deal…" He appeared spiteful at himself.

Estrada stopped him there. "Come now, Penchelo. Things like that can't be helped. It's merely a part of what we do." He chuckled a little. "It seems this body is finally catching up to me."

Joey was beginning to realize why people like Penchelo had so much loyalty to him. He now knew Estrada wasn't just a figurehead, he was an everyman. At his age, Estrada was still in the mix of it all. Even though a position like his didn't call for it, Joey sensed he had wanted to prove something to his own men. He wanted to gain their respect.

Joey began to reminisce about his own worth. He, too, was the hands-on type in the past. But he never did it for the respect. Or rather, he wanted the respect that garnered fear as he watched over his men. He always figured that that was the only way to deal with a bunch of insatiable hoodlums. Guess he was wrong.

"Erhm," Estrada began again, "Please pardon Penchelo's rudeness, he didn't realize this merger came from your intentions."

"What? But Mr. Estrada…" Penchelo squeaked.

"Penchelo, they were the ones who asked me to join them. And I humbly accepted it." Estrada clarified.

"You…didn't even try and think about this, did you?" Joey added, annoyed.

Penchelo stood utterly silent, completely making an ass of himself.

"This was always what I wanted," Estrada divulged to them, "to merge the three mobs back together just like before."

He then gave an approving nod at Joey. "Even if there's still Torrence to contend with, I know everything will be fine with you in charge of us—"

"W-Wait, hold on." Joey intervened. "Mr. Estrada, we chose this merger with you because we wanted you to be the next don for both sides."

Estrada's expression formed into a mix of surprise and hesitation at these words. "B-But, Joey, you're the best one suited to lead this mob."

"No, I'm not. It's time for someone better suited to lead this mob." Joey replied. "And me and Frank were never the ones in charge here. It'd be better if an already established don were to be seen."

Estrada's lips tried to move but nothing came of it. He simply smiled and nodded back at the guy he once called boss.

"Alright, alright. I don't know what this is all about and really I don't wanna know," Penchelo spoke up, "but we've already got a problem on our hands."

He picked up a pair of Glock 19 pistols from the coffee table beside him and tossed Joey and Frank a piece.

"As you've seen around town the place is a war zone. Most of the guys don't know about this new alliance—"

"—Merger. An alliance means it's only temporary." Joey corrected him.

Penchelo gave a slight snort. "Alright— a "_merger_" between the LaSalle's and the Estrada's. Which means our guys are still fighting your guys—and some of Torrence's guys in between. But it seems _your_ guys are the ones causing most of the trouble. So, either they _reeeeally_ liked LaSalle or you guys just suck at this boss thing."

"Hey don't blame this on us, dumbass!" Frank shot back.

"What the hell is your problem, man?! Shit! It was just a fucking joke." Penchelo fired.

"Calm down, Penchelo. Frank's just got a hangover. Don't mind him. Besides, we weren't exactly given a royal coronation here, we just kind of assumed LaSalle's position so it's never really been official." Joey reasoned out.

Penchelo seemed to ignore that last sentence though, "Aww, couldn't handle your liquor. Why don't cha lie down while the adults take care of business."

"Why don't I just kick your ass right here?!" Frank fumed.

"Ok, you two dumbasses just cool it!" Joey yelled. "We got work to do. Frank, are you with us or you can just lie down on that sofa?"

Frank grunted scornfully as he cocked his head back, and then recoiled back down. He sighed heavily, "Yeah, yeah. I'm with ya…"

Penchelo receded his insults also, choosing to focus back on the task.

"Well, anyway, what we gotta do now is to put out these riots ourselves. My guys can stand down if I tell them to, but it's your guys that we might have a problem with." Penchelo explained.

Just then, the intercom buzzed and Layla's voice came blaring out. "Sir, Smithy Barone is here to see you—that's Mr. Smithy! —urgh, I'll send him in. _Beep_."

A second later, Smithy Barone appeared over the doorway. An unmistakable stench of too much cologne wafted through the air as he came inside. Joey saw the guard close the door as he tried to snuff the smell out of his nose.

Smithy was a fairly short guy. He had a large, broad nose as his distinguishing feature and piercing beady eyes that surveyed everyone with an untrusting surmise. His grayish hair parted in the middle with the ends curling into a loop. He walked with a sense of indignation, accompanied in his hand was a brown-leathered briefcase that swayed back and forth.

He stopped a few paces in front of Joey and Frank, eyeing them suspiciously. Then his eyes wandered in Penchelo's direction.

"You must be the one who called me earlier." Smithy said, a squeaky tone it sounded.

"Yeah, I did. Yours was in LaSalle's speed dial, after Joey's and that Mahoney guy." Penchelo replied. Smithy didn't seem to like that note as his eyebrows furrowed. "I'd figure you would have been somewhat important in LaSalle's ranks."

"As a matter of fact, I am. LaSalle frequently entrusted me with all sorts of tasks." Smithy beamed smugly.

"Well, that's good. You can help us sort this mess out." Penchelo tried to finish.

"Ah yes, that. You told me you needed help to quell these ongoing riots. I can help you with that, but…tell me, why would I want to help YOU and your mob?" Smithy showcased an unpleasant smirk toward Penchelo.

"It's because we decided to join up with them. We thought it would be the best move." Joey told him.

"And since when did you decide on what happens to LaSalle's mob?" Smithy questioned him; every fabric of his words rang with defiance.

"Since LaSalle died, and the guy next in line got killed as well. So I'm the guy who takes his place, it says so on the speed dial." Joey snapped at him.

A twitch of anger materialized on Smithy's face, yet he was stepping back just as Joey stepped forward threateningly. An apparent mix of cowardice seemed to flow through Smithy's veins, something he couldn't hide with all the glares and empty bluffs he could muster.

A loud bang suddenly erupted. Penchelo had fired a slug from his own Glock overhead. "Ok, you two should just settle down."

"Damn, man! You couldn't have found another way to make yourself heard. Like talking?!" Frank groaned, he had plopped down on the sofa whilst his fingers fidgeted on his ears.

Penchelo ignored him and continued, "What's the problem, anyway? Look, _we_'re not here to get in a fight with you. And I'm guessing you've never been in a fight. So, right now, I can't see anything wrong with this."

Smithy gritted his teeth but he did see Penchelo's point. "I… guess there isn't an actual problem with it…"

He took a quick deriding glance at Joey. He had a stern face on but he didn't show any hint of anger, he wasn't even looking at him. Joey was like that, Frank thought, catching Smithy's reproachful look. He had never really known Joey to maintain his anger, yet somehow; he had the feeling that it wasn't entirely the case.

Smithy promptly marched over the coffee table, brashly pushing away Penchelo's guns, to his irritation, making room to lay down his briefcase. At once, he unlocked the hinges to produce a stack of papers within.

"These are the list of guys in LaSalle's payroll." Smithy addressed. He passed on a couple to each of them. "Between me, Mahoney, and those two, LaSalle had 5 other subordinates below us. Each was assigned to a different territory where they had control over."

Joey was shifting over the papers. "Mickey Caldwell…Seth Mason…Aaron Parks… I knew some of these guys but I didn't know they had ranks."

"Obviously you weren't paying attention." Smithy sniped, but Joey didn't care any less.

"So what does this all mean?" Penchelo asked.

"It means," Smithy spoke impatiently, "that in these territories where our mob has control over, the riots occurring are undoubtedly instigated by these men. So if we take out the head the whole body goes down, capiche?"

"I see, so these guys are the ones we're aiming for." Penchelo was looking over the info sheets of the 5 men they had to hunt down.

"Yeah, Sherlock. Brilliant deduction!" Smithy mocked. He then turned back to his briefcase and hurriedly pulled out a map.

"Okay, so I've circled each of the five's boundaries in this map." He briefly exposed the contents of the map before handing them already to Joey.

"They could possibly be there, or might've extricated their mayhem past that. But in any case they wouldn't be too far off. I've got contacts in the police department and I can tell you where the hotspots are. I'll call you when you get going, so— _GET GOING_!"

Joey couldn't deny that he was amazed. For someone who didn't care 10 minutes ago, he sure planned a whole lot. Penchelo was the first on the move. He took the rest of his guns off the table and headed out the door. A restless smirk on his face formed.

"_ALRIGHT, GENTLEMEN! IT'S TIME FOR OPERATION: TAKE BACK VANDERVILLE. C'MON LET'S GET MOVIN'!"_

He banged the door open and took off, roaring with laughter all the way to the elevator. Frank moaned, slowly getting up from the sofa.

"Let's get going, you can get some rest when this all over." Joey told Frank, patting him on the back.

Before they left however, Smithy Barone called out to them.

"Hey! I just want you to know…I don't trust any of you." He looked at them fiercely, only it wasn't anger that reverberated. It was a solemn feeling of suspicion.

"I know Mahoney was with you last night, and now he isn't here anymore." Smithy paused, his eyes not darting anywhere else but at Joey. "And I saw that English guy as well, he told me something. He told me Mahoney was still up there, taking care of something. But he never came back…… why is that?"

A tense moment filled the room; nobody spoke as the three men stared at one another. And then,

"We were outside when it happened. Don't have a clue what you're talking about." Joey said, staring him straight in the eye, an expressionless face.

He turned around and started walking away until nothing else could be seen of the two. Estrada stood leaning on the desk, just observing the whole thing. A face in contemplation.


	13. Riot Act

The scorching midday sun shows brightly over Vanderville. Three cars in a line are speeding madly through the streets. Smithy Barone calls on the radio inside one of the cars. Joey picks it up. It didn't even take a second before Smithy started speaking.

"Are you guys heading to Milford Avenue already?" Smithy said.

"Yeah, the nearest one. Like you told us." Joey replied.

"Good, just keep going. Police reports indicate a lot of activity in one of the buildings a block down from there. How many are you, anyway?"

"We've got about 16 men. Two other cars are following behind me."

He could hear Smithy grunt derisively. "Only that much? You're gonna need a lot more men if you think you can stop this riot."

"There weren't a lot of guys left in the building. This is about as much as we could get." Joey replied hastily, a little irritated about it.

"What about that big baboon who works for Estrada—?"

"—HEY!" Penchelo blares on the other car's radio, "You dumb fuck! Quit insulting me!"

Smithy, sounding deridingly. "Oh, I see you actually learned how to use those things."

"I'm gonna rip your balls off when I get back there!! You hear me—!"

Smithy turns off Penchelo's transmitter. "It's better if he doesn't talk. So what with Estrada's guys?

"Penchelo ordered all his men not to leave their own turf. Told them just to stay on guard." Joey said.

Smithy is thinking silently for a brief moment. "Hmm, I guess that's good too. Saves us the trouble of covering more ground. Still, I don't think those guys will be enough to handle the situation."

Joey takes a left on the corner, just barely being missed by a speeding car which turns in the opposite direction.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll try to find some more people when we get the chance— ey, we're here!"

The three cars begin to slow down. It didn't take a while to locate the building that was making the most ruckus. A group of people had been clustering around this one building; throwing stones and other junk inside the already broken windows, which they most likely caused as well.

But there was something different about them, they were civilians. Joey was squinting through the windshield at the throng of people, trying to make sure his eyes weren't being deceived.

"Are you sure this is the right place?!" Joey spoke through the receiver, "There's some kind of strike going on outside… I don't think—"

"No, you're there alright. That part of town isn't really what you call… er, a 'friendly' one.

"I don't know what exactly happened but, I'm guessing LaSalle's goons intimidated the wrong crowd." Smithy mused.

Joey stared back at the windshield again, the angry crowd looked insatiable. They were screaming profanities left and right, threatening the people inside to come out. He deduced that the ones before him were more than likely ex-convicts and other hoodlums from the way they acted.

"Well no use thinking about it. We're just gonna have to find out ourselves." Joey said.

"Rey, you hear me?" referring to the driver in the third car, "You guys are backup."

"Gotcha." Rey responded in an almost robotic-like manner.

"Alright, the rest of us are going in!"

"The leader there's Aaron Parks. A dope kid who basically got where he is by sucking up to LaSalle. Shouldn't be too hard to handle." Smithy added before signing off.

"Something you have in common." Frank added, still rubbing his noggin, but Smithy was already gone by then.

Joey opened his car door. "Come on, if you can still crack jokes…"

He got out, the ones in the backseat doing the same, while Frank took his time. Penchelo had already gotten out and was going toward them, along with his guys.

"Don't show your weapons. We don't want them to go after us as well." Joey said. They started moving toward the crowd.

"Those guys are idiots!" Frank suddenly blurted out as they were approaching, "Why didn't they just use their guns to drive those bastards away, huh?"

Joey shushed him once they were in hearing proximity. He had reached one of the civilians and called out to him.

"Hey, what's going on here? Who's in there?"

The civilian turned to Joey, still sporting a scowl on his face.

"Huh? Bunch of asshole pussies were causing us trouble!" The civilian barked. "Some mob guys or sumthin'."

He started to survey the people who were with Joey. And he didn't look pleased.

"What's it to ya, huh?! You cops or sumthin'?"

"Hey, easy guy. We got some business with them as well." Joey said, trying to calm the man down.

"What, you with the mob too?!" He turned to his fellow civilians. "Ey guys! These boys here are lookin' to start sumthin'. What are we gonna do about that?"

Now the others had started noticing Joey and his men. About 6 of them had approached, each looking none too happy.

Joey tried to continue reasoning with them. "Wait. Come on, guys. We're on your side—"

"You ain't on our side! You got some nerve coming here, you mob cocksuckers!"

Joey was getting pissed. His hand was inching toward his gun, but he still didn't want to resort to that yet.

Then Frank spoke up. "Hey, you shitheads! We already said we're on your side! So just cool—!"

Another civilian cuts him off, "—Shut up, bitch! We don't give a rat's ass whose side yer on! Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway?!"

"I'm the guy who keeps banging your wife every night cus' she can't get any from your vagina!" Frank fires back at him.

This just riles up the civilians even more. The man tries to lunge at Frank but Joey steps between them.

"Now hold on! He didn't mean anything by it. Let's just all calm down for a sec."

But the man wasn't listening, nor were any of them. "You wanna piece a' me, dipshit?! Come on!!"

"Get the fuck outta here!!! Scumbags!" Another says.

The crowd was getting even more restless. Joey was between them all, trying to out-shout the rest of them and get things in perspective. And then a shot rang out. It pierced the air, making everyone pause.

All eyes were on Penchelo. His arm still raised, with the gun pointed upward, barrel smoking.

"Alright, everybody just settle down!" Penchelo bellowed.

Everybody did settle down, all became quiet… for about 2 seconds. The civilians suddenly began taking out guns, and all hell was about to break loose.

"Aww, fuck." Penchelo could only say.

Joey quickly took out his gun and shot the guy who had aimed for Frank just in front of him. He sprinted toward the corner wall in the alleyway, firing a round as he went. The guy he had talked to first took a bullet on the shoulder but wasn't enough to put him down. The rest of the crew was firing their guns now.

Frank had sprinted back, cursing under his breath as he did so. Then he brazenly took cover behind one of his own men just as a hail of bullets blasted the poor goon. He was already gone in a split-second. He slid over the car's hood and took cover there, along with Penchelo and his guys.

The fight was getting fierce. Bullets were being traded so callously, neither was backing down. The civilians didn't have much in way of a shield, but they certainly outnumbered Joey's group by almost two-to-one. On top of that, the civilians were carrying more fast-hitting weapons other than pistols, which couldn't be said the same for some of Joey's men.

Meanwhile, Joey himself had his back against the wall; along with the other two remaining guys who were with them in the car. He tried to edge his head a little further out but he could already hear the bullets going deathly close and backed out.

He turned to Frank and shouted amidst the noise, "I'm guessing _this_ is why!"

Rey and his group had joined the fray now, stopping their car just beside Joey's and creating a makeshift barricade. They got out in a hurry but one of them was still struck in the back of the head as he was getting out. Four more went down on the civilians' side, but things still weren't looking too good for them. Joey couldn't wait for this whole shootout to end, and so started looking for another way in. He turned around to find the emergency staircase of the building, just what was needed.

Before he did anything else, he signaled Frank and Penchelo to get over there. The two followed, joined with three other goons. One by one they crossed that open space between the barricade and alleyway. Though one of the goons was unlucky enough to get shot as he passed and dropped dead on the spot.

Joey pointed them to the staircase. Unfortunately, the ladder going up was barely still attached with only one of the hinges remained to support it.

"Er," Frank started, motioning to Penchelo. "You go first."

Joey cursed quietly because of this little setback. And then he realized something, the building next to it. It was only 2-stories but close enough to be able to leap over and land on the emergency staircase. Penchelo and Frank were following his gaze.

"Woah! That's crazy, man." Frank exclaimed, his eyes going back to Joey.

"Come on, it's only a 2-story drop. You'll live." Joey responds.

"You say that like I'm some kind of cat." Frank gripes.

"Let's go."Joey just says, then motioned for them to move.

Frank wheezed a grunt of exasperation but still followed suit, clutching his head again. The four other goons right behind; while Penchelo was wearily walking after them. They found a lone door on the building in the alley. Joey tried the doorknob; locked. He stepped back and administered a hard kick on the door. It flung wide open.

Then they were startled when inside, a middle-aged Chinese man brandishing a shotgun started aiming at them and screaming words in half-Chinese, half-English.

"强盗… 不来… D-Don't come in!… 事假… I-I-I'll s-shoot!—shoot! G-Get out!! …Thief!… 麻烦制造者–!"

"W-Wait, wait! Calm down, we-we're not thieves!" Joey said, shaking his head whilst emphasizing the 'thieves' part.

The man continues to flail his gun every which way.

"We just… need… to go… to your… roof." Joey tells him, accompanied by hand gestures to go along with it.

The store owner doesn't react. His whole body is shaking. He doesn't seem able to comprehend what Joey was saying because of the fear overcoming him. But Frank wasn't as patient; the moment the store clerk wasn't looking he raised his gun and popped one on the head. The Chinese man's body plopped down on the stairs behind him with a thud.

"Frank!" Joey exclaimed crossly.

Then a shrill scream of a woman erupted on the room beside. They took a look and found a Chinese woman dropped to her knees, beginning to cry hysterically. Her eyes fixed on her dead husband. She started wailing indiscernible foreign words that no one could understand; one of them being repeated was most likely his name.

Joey stood there for a second. He hated to see this kind of sight. Innocent people witnessing their loved one dead. It was one thing for him to kill someone; he knew for all the countless men he killed there was at least one who had cared for them. But not like this, not in front of their very own eyes. Especially for this man who only wanted to protect his family. Not some criminal.

"Goddammit, Frank." Joey merely uttered, shaking his head. He continued up the stairs.

Frank stared at him all the way as Joey went up. He couldn't find any words. He wanted to say something as an excuse, but…

He looked back at the woman. She was still crying in that lone corner, afraid to get near her husband because of them.

Remorsefully, Frank could only say, "Sorry…"

They all reached the roof now. Joey was already examining the edge where the staircase was parallel to. The gap wasn't that big, all it took was one long jump.

"Hey, over here!" Joey called out. He could see in their faces the apprehension of going through this little stunt. "I'm going first, alright? You just follow what I do."

He takes two steps back, and dashes into one giant leap. Joey lands perfectly on the 1st floor platform, grabbing the 2nd stairs railing to stop his acceleration. He turned his head to the others who were clearly amazed.

"Come on, who's next already?" Joey shouted.

At first the rest of the crew were looking at each other, silently waiting for one to man up and go next. Until Joey shouted at them again to get moving, and one of the goons finally did come forward. He took a very long running start, and then made the jump. He crashed onto the 2nd stairs railing hard and even tried to hang on it before stumbling backwards.

Despite the rough landing, the other goons felt a little more courage in themselves. One by one they were able to successfully jump onto the other side. When it came to Penchelo's turn, he was suddenly backing up though.

"Uh-Uh, y-you know… I-, um, d-don't think I'll be able to… uh… jump there, y-you know." Penchelo stuttered nervously.

Frank turned to him, "Huh? What's the matter, you scared or someth—"

"M-Maybe I'll just go back— a-and back up our guys down there, o-on the street…a-alright?" Penchelo continued, not listening one bit.

Frank started to snort loudly. "Shit man! What, you a little sissy boy now?"

"N-No, I ain't…" He responded meekly, startlingly very un-Penchelo-like. Turning around and heading for the door.

"Afraid of falling down? Don't worry, I'll catch ya." Frank mocks some more.

Penchelo never looked back, disappearing into the floor below. Frank was laughing as he turned to start his jump.

"Hahaha. What a wuss! Guy like him, didn't think— w-woah! Uh, he-hey…"

Frank stopped just on the ledge. He looked down on the pavement, it became as if the ground was going farther back. Suddenly, he didn't feel so smug. "Er—…a—…ah—"

"Just jump, you fucking pussy!!" Joey screamed at him.

In one motion, Frank had jumped. He barely reached it, his ass crashing onto the platform's railing as he landed. Frank winced and lurched over from the pain.

"_Owwwwwwwwwwww_…" He groaned.

Joey signaled him. "Let's go, come on! Time's wasting!"

"… augh… easy for you to say…" Frank said, rubbing his behind. His headache bobbing up again, as well.

"Damn it… I should've stayed home." He got up and eventually followed on.

* * *

Penchelo comes out of the building and runs toward the corner wall. The fighting is still as fierce as ever. He could see two of their men sprawled on the floor, in a pool of their own blood. Seeing them, he began to think how many were remaining for the other side. With half of the group inside the building now, their ranks were dangerously thin here outside. Trying not to think about it much, he dived head-on behind the car barricade. Rey turns to him.

"Huh? Weren't you guys doing some kind of jump on the roof? He asks in his deep, baritone voice.

"What—nah! …I was takin' a whizz." Penchelo sheepishly responds.

Just then, a man starts to scream from the civilian's side.

"Yeah!! Eat this you motherfuckers!" The man screams, holding out a Molotov cocktail in one hand. He flings it in the air towards them.

Everyone scrambles to get out of the way, all except for Rey. With only one shot, he hits the bottle with his pistol and the flames burst in midair. Penchelo watches it all happen with his mouth agape after.

"W-… Ni-… Nice shot." Penchelo uttered; eyes wide open still.

"Thanks." Rey replied, his unflinching monotonous tone never missing a beat. He wasn't even looking at Penchelo when he said that, his steely glare entrenched against the enemy.

Both sides were at a standstill there for a moment, before they regrouped to continue their battle. But then a familiar sound emerged suddenly.

"Bout time they showed up!" Penchelo exclaimed. The sirens getting louder.

This was just the saving grace they needed. Penchelo could see the angry crowd finally dispersing as everyone made a run for it. Unluckily for them, the cop cars had arrived from their direction. Bullets were still being fired but now it was aimed toward the men in uniforms.

"Let's get outta here!" Penchelo gets up.

"What about the others?" Rey said.

"We'll catch up with them later. Now come on!"

Rey stand up, but then he suddenly notices something. "Hey, wait. Aren't they—"

"LET'S GO!" Penchelo screams once more.

And the five associates all proceeded to dart inside the cars and drive off, leaving the turmoil behind.

* * *

"Hey Joey! Frank yells, being the last one at the end of the line. "I think the cops have arrived. Rey's group just left."

Joey was opening up the 4th floor window, which so far had been the only one not rusted shut. "Yeah… I can hear the sirens."

He finally manages to bring it up entirely. "Let's hurry it up. We gotta get this over with before the cops come here."

Joey goes inside, and then the other goons follow next.

"Why does it matter?"Frank stresses, now going through the window. "The cops won't arrest us, they know who we are."

"That's just it." Joey tells him. He surveys the place; the whole floor was one big space filled with rubble and other discarded junk. The interior was barely visible if it weren't for the noontime sun's rays striking the windows and creating what little light could be gotten.

"The whole city's going through hell." Joey continues, "And who do you think is gonna be held responsible for that happening? Right now, I don't doubt if the cops are looking to take down any big name to be the scapegoat and save face."

Frank frowns, things just weren't getting any better for them. Suddenly, Joey pushes them to a halt. He was listening in for something and points to them at the floor above. Voices could be heard, not a lot, but definitely there were people. They silently moved their way towards the stairs, readying their weapons at hand. Joey reached the top floor first. It was darker here than the one below. Most of the windows were obstructed with junk, while some had been nailed off with plywood. The only real source of light was coming from the flames of burning wood and other objects in the back where Parks and his men were camped around. Joey moved forward, the rest close behind.

"Hey! Hey!" He called out to get their attention.

The men lounging on the tattered sofas and drinking bottles of beer were suddenly startled. They fumbled for their weapons and took aim, but Joey just had his arms up.

"Hold on! We ain't with the crowd down there!" Joey quickly adds. His guys had their guns up as well but signaled for them to stand ground.

Then one of the men from the other group stopped and took a good look at Joey. "…J …Joey? Shit! It is you!"

He gets up from his position and walks over to him. "It's me, man. Aaron Parks."

Parks opens his arms and gives him a brotherly hug, like they were some long lost cousins.

"Yeah, I know. That's why we're here." Joey said.

"Yeah, man. I know." Parks repeats, his head stooped and shaking. "That goddamned LaSalle got what he deserved! Didn't know how to run his own goddamned mob!"

Parks' words were just what Joey wanted to hear. He was hoping to get an ally out of Parks rather than make this another shootout with only a handful of recruits to back him up. So far, it looked like Parks wasn't missing him that much. Joey also noticed that there weren't a lot of people with him.

"Where's the rest of you group?" He asked.

"Huh? Erh, well—…" Parks starts.

"They left. Because he couldn't keep them in check!" A loud, booming voice says from the man behind Parks.

"Shut up, man!" Parks turns to him, "It wasn't my fault—!"

"Yeah it is! This fuckhead tried to be a big shot, but he came back running and got us dragged into this. The other guys were lucky enough to get away. But us, didn't realize how much of a chicken shit this guy really was—"

"—Oh just fuck off! We're safe now right?! Joey and his gang came up here, that means the crowd's already gone." Parks argues.

Joey interrupts them, "Anyway. I came here cus' I'm looking to gather some people.

"With LaSalle gone, we're planning on setting up a new mob. Since you were one of LaSalle's top men" —the man behind scoffs loudly— "I'm offering for a partnership."

He pauses and looks at Joey. "Partners? …Y-Yeah! S-Sure, sure! We could join up with you."

He turns around for a second and appears to say something to his guys, then goes back to Joey.

"Yeah… I don't see why not." Parks reaffirms.

"Alright then." Joey smirks, and then nods. He turns toward the exit, "Let's head back. We still got a lot to do. Contact Smithy and tell Penchelo to get back here ASAP."

"W—… Penchelo?" Parks blurts out. "Isn't he… one of Estrada's men?"

Joey stops. "Yeah, I forgot to mention. Estrada has come to terms with us as well. So he's an ally now—"

And then Frank suddenly yells, "Joey, watch out!"

He looks back as he finds Parks firing his gun at him. Joey jumps to the side but he gets hit just above his hip. Parks' men had started firing, too. Frank had just missed Parks by a hair as both of them dived to the ground moments after. Now another clash had begun.

"Fuck! I didn't know Estrada was going to be in all this." Parks curses, "I thought if we took out Joey we could've taken control of the whole thing! But now we have to deal with Estrada, too?!"

"Shit, man! Is that what you were planning?!" Parks subordinate said. "Damn it! That was the stupidest plan ever! And why'd you still fucking shoot him anyway!?"

"I got frustrated, okay?!" Parks reasons out, shrilly. "Damn, whatever, there's no way we can get out of this without taking them out. There's a lot more of us here. We can do this, alright!"

And he was right. With Joey still trying to get back to his feet, there were only five of them able to fight back, and two only had pistols. Meanwhile, Parks' group had more than ten people and all of them were using micro-SMGs. The minutes passed, no one fell for either group. But Joey's side was starting to run out of ammo.

"Damn! I'm all out." One of the goons said.

Frank was able to take out a man before he proceeded to take out a clip and throw it in the goon's direction.

"Here." Frank said.

The goon made a grab for it which landed a few feet away from him. But unfortunately he didn't realize that his head had stuck out when he reached for the clip and got hit. The bullet pierced through his eye socket, his eyeball popping out. Then another bullet struck his head, and another. Blood gushing out as his legs fell to a kneel and his body slowly swaying until it tumbled onto the floor.

Frank could only curse as the bullets kept coming. Joey couldn't act as quickly as he could with the wound hurting him; he barely got any shots off at that point. Then he heard the scream of yet another goon in the farther right. Frank could see some of Park's men mobilizing near there; they were being surrounded.

He motions for the other two remaining from behind to gather round. They start to flank the right side and fire on the thugs drawing near. They shoot down three of them, gaining a little more confidence as the enemy's numbers decreased. But now one more goon had run out of ammo.

"Shit!" Frank exclaimed. "This is really bad!"

Frank was trying to think up of something. There was too much of a disadvantage for them to have any chances of winning this fight. Joey was still grimacing in pain, outnumbered, and out of ammo, things weren't looking good. Maybe run away, he thought. Before he could propose that notion to them though, his eyes abruptly rounded on another of the assailants up front.

"MOVE!!" Frank screams. The thug fires a round at them. Joey falls to the left side, the pain increasing; while Frank and a goon dived on the right. The one who was left got riddled with bullets.

Frank sees the guy's dead body and curses again. The thug continues to fire his gun. He looks around but finds no other way.

He turns to the goon. "Hey, when this guy stops. We make a run for it. Got that?"

The goon nods; and then he turns to Joey to relay the plan. But when he does, his eyes are stunned.

"Freeze, fuckers!" Parks smiles brashly, his gun pointed at Joey who had only been able to sit up by then.

They were caught. Joey couldn't do a thing in his condition, and Frank and the goon were ineffective whilst Parks held him hostage. They were left seething there as Parks cackled at his triumph.

"Seems like this just ain't your day, huh?" Parks goads on, seemingly savoring his one, and probably only, true defining achievement.

Frank watches as Parks readies to pull the trigger, when a shout erupts from the stairway.

"_POLICE! EVERYBODY DROP YOUR WEAPONS!!" _

About two dozen cops came barging in all of a sudden. But they weren't just any cops. They were the SWAT. Parks faces them, with his gun switching to their direction. Once the SWAT guys caught sight of the aimed gun they started firing their high caliber rifles without hesitation. Parks took a bullet from just about everywhere in his body, multiple times. He crashed to the floor instantly. The other two guys behind him also were blasted relentlessly. And they weren't even doing anything yet.

Now the SWAT guys were advancing closer. The flashlights from their weapons scurrying around in the muffled darkness. Those who didn't attempt to fight back did what was ordered and laid down on the grime-filled flooring. One by one, the hooligans were put in handcuffs. They got up to Joey and slapped him one; Frank and the goon as well obliged quietly. Things appeared to calm down and order was being set… until something happened.

"Alright." A member of the SWAT team yells out.

He was a broad-shouldered, hulking man who towered way above everyone else here. Apart from the same gear that he wore, the only distinguishing feature he had was a long, bushy, gray handlebar mustache.

"You all remember what we set out here to do!" The man continues. His hawking eyes spots Joey and immediately a menacing smirk forms across his face. He pulls Joey up from behind by his shirt with ease. "We make this a massacre… _no one is to leave here alive!_"

Those words sucked the life out of Joey. The officer slams his captive to the ground, and presses the muzzle of his rifle on the side of Joey's head.

"Don't worry. You won't feel a thing." The officer whispers to him in an almost manic tone.

Joey could almost see a smile cracking on the man's lips. He was powerless to stop it, his hands tied, blood trickling down his back. He could barely even squirm because he had been weakened so much from the ordeal already. His vision was dimming, and maybe it was for the best. With what was about to happen to him next, passing out now would probably have been the better way to end. It looked too grim for him to endure anymore. Sweat dropping more profusely; he could feel the man wrapping his stubby finger on the trigger… …squeezing… …squeezing… …squeezing it in nearly an excruciating manner, and then…

_BANG._

* * *

*breathes in a deep sigh of relief* Haaaaaaah, finally finished a new chapter here :) Been a long time since the last actual one and not a re-edit, but now I've done it --well, part 1 anyway. Still, I'm very happy about it, and even got a cliffhanger here at the end(or something like that... right? i think, hahaha) so maybe it'll become more interesting like what's going to happen now? I was compelled to write THE END there as well just to mess around, but that'd be really wacked. Hahaha ;D


	14. Help Wanted

It was as if time had just stood still. The heavy thumping of his heart almost crushing his ribs. He felt dizzy from all the pain and fatigue eating him up. But one thing snapped him back to his senses: a loud, bellowing sound that erupted not from the nozzle of a gun but from one enormous man.

Then the SWAT chief cackled vigorously as he stood up from aiming his gun at Joey's head.

"Alright, boys! Let's finish up. Haul their asses outta here, pronto!"

The other SWAT officers followed and began rounding up the rest of Aaron's men. The SWAT chief turns to Frank and their last surviving guy.

"You two're with him, right?" motioning to Joey on the ground.

Frank slowly nodded his head, "Y… Yeah."

"Alright, you! Get their cuffs off." He says, bending back down to remove Joey's.

"Got you good, didn't I?" laughing once more.

The chief then helps Joey up. He sees the blood soaked area on his shirt and signals to one of his guys, "Hey, get a medic up here!"

The officer goes past them, the chief watches him disappear. Then points to the other two guarding over Frank and co, and tilts his head to follow.

Now only the four of them remained in close proximity. The other three stayed silent, still unable to make out of what just happened.

The chief stares at Joey. "You alright there, fella?"

"…y-yeah…" Joey says, putting a hand on the wound.

"Sorry if I got a little rough on ya." He starts to chuckle, "Wooooh, boy. Heh heh. When Smithy told me to pull that prank, just couldn't resist you know."

There was a brief silence before it suddenly hit them.

"… you… you know Smithy?" Frank asks.

"Yeah, that little weasel-looking guy. I know him." He sniffs, "I owed him one for helping me clear that homicide charge against my son a while back. Little bitch had it coming—"

"W-Wait. So Smithy sent you here?" Joey interrupts.

"Yep. Told me to come down here and help out that prick, 'Joey Giovanni'." He says, putting emphasis on the name as he stared at its owner.

"You didn't think the police, much less the freakin' SWAT, woulda come here to break up some petty riot? Not when this whole city's going to hell."

Joey and Frank stood there silently, actually feeling a bit relieved after they realized how important their timing had been.

"Yeah, take a long hard look, and realize that a 10 pound slimeball just saved your asses." The chief wrongly misinterprets, accompanied by another bout of laughter.

Afterward, he takes out a cigarette in one of his pockets.

"Name's Jon by the way. Jonathan Brooks."

He lights the cigarette and takes a puff. Just then, the medic pops up in a dash. Brooks takes one glance and points at Joey. The medic takes a look at his wound for a minute or so.

"Well, he'll live?" Brooks impatiently asks.

"Yes sir. He lost quite a bit of blood but nothing seems fatal as far as I can tell. Just have to get the bullet out and then we can close the wound."

"Good to hear." Brooks nods, he turns to Joey. "You can go and get yourself treated downstairs."

Joey looks back at the other two guys in a seemingly cautious manner, still unsure of what might be in store for them. Without any other way present, he yields and follows the medic out of the place.

"Don't worry, I can just talk to one of your goons here." Brooks adds as the two men leave.

"Hey!" Frank exclaims, "I'm not a goon!

"He's the goon." pointing to the guy beside him. The man just looks at him with disdain.

Brooks moves back and leans on an old, rickety table. "So I hear you and your associates are trying to track down the last of LaSalle's loyal dogs."

"Yeah, we are." Frank replies.

"You know, I'd like to help you guys out." Brooks starts, "but us SWAT can't get involved in the mob's affairs. Even if it does concern us."

Brooks breathes out another round. Frank didn't seem all that disappointed by it, he probably considered their help was only going to go this far.

"It doesn't matter. Getting us out of this mess is good enough." Frank tells him.

"Well then, good luck to ya." finishing up his smoke. His transceiver then starts to blare.

"Bzzzt. Chief, we've got a situation going on at East side, near the auction house. They're asking for a LOT of reinforcements down there. Looks like big trouble."

Brooks takes a deep breath and exhales, trying to get his mind clear, before pulling out the transceiver close to him and barking his orders,

"Yeah alright, tell the guys to get ready. I'm comin' down."

He puts the receiver back in place, and looks at the two.

"Guess this is where we part ways, gentlemen." He waves them a two-fingered salute and then turns his back.

"Just a sec here." Frank says, "So that whole thing about leaving no one alive and pinning us down pretending to execute us was just some big joke?"

Brooks pauses then blankly responds "Yeah."

"And then killed Parks just to make it look real and get us scared as shit?" Frank continues, his tone rising.

"…Uhuh."

"And all that, was because of you and… and that slimeball's doing?"

"Yeah, that's right."

Frank shakes his head, "Damn! You guys are seriously fucked in the head!"

Brooks smiles, and then laughs as he heads down. "Takes one to know one, kid."

* * *

30 minutes had gone by after that. Frank and the goon were already out on the streets and, as per Joey's instructions, Frank went to go look for a phone so he could call Barone and contact Penchelo's group from the car.

Incidentally, Frank had learned the goon's name as Ari. He wasn't originally one of their men but a bodyguard for another prominent figure. Ari decided to join Joey when he was recruiting people inside the building because he had just found out that his then-current employer was killed in one of countless instances of carnage in the city.

Joey, meanwhile, got himself treated from the SWAT's medic. He felt exhausted but still able to go, or rather was willing himself to. Either way, he wasn't going to take a rest by his own choice.

"What took you so long?" Joey asked the second Frank came into view.

"I had to give the little shit a piece of my mind." Frank said. "And a couple dozen F-bombs to go along."

"I'm sure he really appreciated it." Joey answered back, his hand feeling the wound near his waist. "So, did he contact Penchelo?"

"Yeah, they're on their way here." Frank started to look around.

"The SWAT guys left already." Joey said, and then he motioned to the lone remaining SWAT vehicle where the medic team was housed. "They only stayed to finish me up."

They watched as one of the medics close the rear doors. The guy didn't even consider taking a glance at them, almost as if acknowledging the trio as non-existent entities. The doors shut and at once sped off.

A couple of minutes passed before a car stopped in front of them. Penchelo and the 4 other guys got out.

"Damn! You boys alright there?" Penchelo barked in his usual booming tone.

"We saw the SWAT coming and hightailed it." Rey added. "You guys didn't run into them, did you?"

"It's a long story." Joey replied. "Short story is Parks's taken out."

"That's good to hear." Penchelo remarked.

"So what's next?" Joey hastily asks.

"Well, there was a change of targets." Penchelo began.

"Change?"

"That scumbag lawyer said the next guy was either supposed to be a Mickey Caldwell or a guy called 'Big-O'. They were closer from where we are now than that other guy."

"What other guy?" Frank wondered aloud.

Penchelo started scratching his stubbly chin as he continued, "See this other guy, he's also one of the _five_. And, well, he suddenly contacted that lawyer a little while back."

He looked at Frank, "I think just after you called him up.

"Anyway. He was asking for a meet up with Joey's crew. Says they're not on anyone's side, but they were willing to make a deal, or some sort."

Joey and Frank looked at each other, both making dubious faces as their attention went back to Penchelo.

"Now I know, this ain't exactly a surefire thing. I told him that too.

"But, like what the lawyer said, you have to realize that we are totally outnumbered."

He turned to everyone around, some followed his action. There were only 8 of them in total now. Still less than that of Parks' group, and his numbers were already lessened by then.

"At the very least," Penchelo went on, "we don't have enough firepower. And even only some of us have bulletproof vests on."

Something Joey could had really needed badly earlier, he mused.

"Point is we can't take on any of them the way we are now. Especially that Big-O guy. He's the one shitting all over downtown. The one the whole police force is converging on."

"It's probably where the SWAT went off to as well." Rey concludes.

"Yeah, and it's also why I can't let any of my men out here. They're right across my territory, so you know I ain't taking any chances."

For a while they continued discussing on whether or not they should go for it. In the end, they thought it was probably the safer choice to go for it, on paper anyway.

"What's this guy's name anyway?" Frank asks.

"Uh, the lawyer said he's called 'Jake the Snake'." Penchelo answers, sniffing.

"Great. He already sounds like a fuckingly honest guy!" Frank bemoans.

"It's just a nickname. It doesn't mean anything." Joey tells him.

They watch as one of the goons breaks into an empty car and attempts to start its engine.

"It DOES mean everything! That's why it's a nickname!" Frank replies, a bit animatedly.

"Your headache seems to be gone." Joey noticed.

"Huh– Oh, yeah. I got some aspirin there, too. While I was making the call." Frank was pointing to the building they had broken into earlier.

"You mean that place? The one where you killed an innocent, hardworking man?"

They started walking, Joey shaking his head in utter disbelief.

"Hey! I did leave money on the table, you know!" Frank said, trying to defend himself.

"They should call you 'Frank the Insensitive Bastard'." Penchelo chimed in.

Frank glares at his direction, and just mouths off something inaudible.

* * *

It was past four in the afternoon when they arrived at the designated place. At once, they saw a large number of men brandishing weapons. Weapons that were far superior than most of them had.

The two cars stopped a reasonable distance away. When they got out, Joey motioned to the people from the other car.

"Alright, guys." Joey begins as they all lean in to listen, "We stick to the plan. Me and Frank go in the lead, while you guys get a bit of distance behind."

Joey glances at the men they were about to confront. The group was already aware of their presence. But, not knowing if these strangers were friend or foe had their guns ready at the hip.

"I don't really know what we're getting into…" Joey admits to them. "…but if things don't go as planned, I want you guys to run for it. We're not gonna win this gunfight."

Rey speaks up. "What happens to you guys?"

"We'll make a break for it too… Wait for us if you can, but if you think you can't anymore then leave. I trust... all of you will use your best judgment."

Silence hung over them momentarily, contemplating on those words.

"I'd leave you guys in a heartbeat." Penchelo suddenly blurts out, as-a-matter-of-factly even.

"Yeah, definitely." A goon says after him.

"Don't need to tell me twice." Another adds.

"… maybe I could give you 2 seconds." Rey admits as well.

One by one, the guys unanimously agree on it.

"Gee, thanks for the support guys." Frank remarks dully. He makes an about face and trots forward defiantly.

"Joey, come on. Forget these people!"

He follows while the rest wait a few seconds more before doing the same.

Once they were out of earshot from the rest of the group, Frank turned to Joey.

"Hey, you know I just realized something… if we're gonna make ourselves look intimidating cus' what with us being shorthanded and all"

"I was thinking maybe you should go solo, you know? It'll make you look more like a big, tough guy right?"

Without even looking at him, "I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that." Joey responds with a deadpan expression. As if he didn't already presume Frank was going to try and get out of this.

"Uh, right…" Frank merely mutters to himself.

A couple of men approached to block their path.

"What'cha want, boy?" An African American gangster comes up to them first.

"I'm Joey Giovanni. Your 'boy', Jake the Snake wanted to meet with me."

He looks at Joey. His face told that he wasn't convinced. In fact, he was even laughing a bit now.

"Yo, you don't look like no Joey Giovanni to me." He says snappily. "If you're him, then I'm Michael Jordan."

The guys around him started laughing; Joey and Frank weren't doing the same. The black thug spoke again.

"But seriously, cracker. Ain't no way I'm just gonna believe that. You gotta show me some proof here. That you really ARE who you say you are."

Then he cocked his head toward Frank, "And tell your boy there to stop looking at me like that. Look like he wants to suck my dick or sumthin'."

Frank was giving him what you'd call a 'stink-eye', for lack of a better term. More poser than looking like an actual tough guy. Of course, Joey knew Frank may not be the most intimidating guy in a room, but he'll certainly be the first one to fire back from an insult.

"Oh yeah–" Frank started.

"Cut it, Frank." Joey interrupted him at once before things possibly ended with bullet holes to their chest.

"You say you want proof?"

"Yeah, cracker. Show me some ID, and maybe I'll think about it." The black thug answered.

"You know what, I got something better than that." He replied right back.

He took out his pistol. All of the gangsters, including the black guy, turned their guns at him.

"Woah, shit man! What the hell do you think you're doin'?" The thug exclaims.

"Relax. I'm just gonna show you something." Joey says. "You see that bottle over there?"

The black thug turned his back to find an empty bottle left on the roof a car. It was about 30 feet from where they were standing. His eyes never strayed the whole time from the bottle. Within a few seconds, all heard a bang as a bullet slashed through the air, invisible to the naked eye. But the bottle still stood intact.

The black thug started laughing loudly, "Is that all you got? Stupid cracker thinks he can shoot!"

"That's not where I was aiming." Joey casually states.

The black thug scoffs at what Joey said, "What you talkin' bout cracker, gonna make excuses n–"

He stops, eyes transfixed on a certain man. The man, wearing a white bandana over his bald head, was sitting a few feet farther from the bottle where all had their eyes on. But to everyone's astonishment, this man had another bottle in his hand. Only, half of it remained while broken pieces of glass lay scattered on the ground. The bottle was partly raised, about to be drunk upon by the man holding it. Now he just stood there like a deer caught in the headlights.

The black thug didn't move one bit, still stunned. One of the other thugs leaned over to him, "Hey, Z. I-I think this guy's the real deal."

The thug called Z seemingly snapped out of his trance, turned to Joey looking as if he'd seen a ghost.

"H-Hey… someone call Jake!" Z addressed the crowd of hooligans behind him. "Come on, someone get him out here now!"

It didn't take a long time before the man known as Jake the Snake turned up. Even though they've never seen him before, the two kind of sensed that this man was him, leading a pack of thugs right behind.

The funny thing was this man looked as bland as anyone they've ever seen. He didn't look all that imposing, being far shorter than most of the people here. His skin was pale white and had an unassuming face. He could've been mistaken for a mailman if it wasn't for the AK-47 he was holding, or rather that might've been a more conceivable thing.

Nevertheless, their hunch was right as he made his way to them.

"You must be Joey, LaSalle's right hand man." Jake said, even his voice sounded unassuming.

"I am. And you must be Jake the Snake." Joey responded right back.

"Let's get to the point." Jake tells them. "As that lawyer informed you, we're not taking any sides here. I don't know about you but we don't owe anything to LaSalle."

Jake pauses for a second. "But, it doesn't mean we won't join sides."

"So what are you aiming at?"

"It's pretty simple. When we were with LaSalle we never got any credit. We were always considered under him in the pecking order. So, now… we don't want that anymore."

Jake looks at him intently. He might not look much but this guy was definitely serious, Joey thought.

"So you guys want to be promoted or something of that sort?

"More like a partnership." Jake corrects him. "And there's also one more thing. There's a certain guy I want, he killed my brother. I wanted to kill the son of a bitch myself, but one of LaSalle's cocksucking friends, Mahoney, had been protecting the guy."

Joey started to realize why Jake was explicitly demanding that first stipulation. Jake continued.

"If you can assure me that you'll bring me this guy's head alive, after all this, then you've got me and my men's backing."

Joey didn't even need to think it over. As long as they'll keep their word, he would've chased the man Jake was hunting for to the ends of the earth.

"You'll get your guy on a silver platter." Joey declares.

Jake smiles at those words and reaches out his hand. But before Joey could do the same, Frank interrupts.

"Wait, wait. Hold on there! How do we even know that we can trust you?" Frank says, casting a suspicious look. "Your name is called a snake for fuck's sake! For all we know you might go shooting us in the back the second we turn around!"

Joey was about to say something to him, but Jake responds first.

"You think I'm gonna stab you in the back because of my nickname? They don't call me that because of what you think."

"Then what is it?" Frank demanded to know.

"It's cause of my long schlong." Jake outright says, no hint of embarrassment or even an indication of being boastful. Just his way of saying it as it was.

Frank's zeal suddenly disappeared. He paused, realizing that convincing rationality.

"Oh… …that makes sense." And Frank ends his case with that.

* * *

Everything was set for Joey's newly formed group. They had the firepower and the numbers now to take on the rest of their job. Their next target was Mickey Caldwell. Based on the information Smithy gave, Caldwell could have been considered as something of a company man. Having been with the organization for a very long time now; well past even Joey's reign as boss.

He and Joey had met a couple of times, all of them during his stint as LaSalle's right hand man then. From his interactions with the man, Joey summed up Caldwell as someone who gave up on trying anything else and pretty much consigned to what he'd been doing ever since.

Although LaSalle did promote him to a higher status, borne out of indifference most probably, he never really thought of him that much either. Nor did he appear to have any leadership qualities, or anything that could possibly make him stand out in the slightest. No, Caldwell was just the guy who was there long enough to have mistaken the notion of being a veteran as experience.

Joey thought that there could still be a chance to persuade Mickey, and if the opportunity presented itself he would try. But if he couldn't do so, at least now they had enough backing to be able to take groups like them down. Still, he hoped to convince him first more than anything else. He kind of felt sympathetic for the guy.

Unfortunately, Joey's hopes of convincing Mickey didn't turn out the way he wanted. As it turns out, he didn't need to. Joey stared despondently at the man who was once known as Mickey Caldwell lay sprawled on the ground, a gaping bullet hole left on the side of his head. Along with him were countless bodies lined up next to each other, not a single one breathing. This wasn't just a simple attack; this was a public execution…


End file.
